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cheftsunoda · 22 days ago

Note

Hiii, I had this idea for Kimi where the reader is the youngest Leclerc, 18, but the Leclercs don't see her, they ignore her. Still, she's been dating Kimi for like a year (she moved to Italy when she was younger with her godparents or something), and I was wondering if you can make it like a 2-3 parts??

he put me first — ka12

smau + blurbs

kimi antonelli x !estranged leclerc sister reader

yn always fell on the back burner for her family, never truly seen. her father was the only one who ever made her feel like she mattered. when he passed, the distance between her and her siblings—charles, arthur, lorenzo—only grew wider. she felt more like a shadow than a sister. desperate to escape the weight of monaco and the name that never really felt like hers, she left for italy with nothing but a suitcase and a tearful phone call to her godparents. that was five years ago.

a year into her new life in bologna, she met a boy. kimi antonelli—soft-spoken, kind-eyed, and utterly unlike anyone she’d ever known. they were just kids when they met, but something about him felt like home. they’ve been inseparable ever since. now, five years later, both 18 years old, yn and kimi have been together for three years. he’s the only person who’s ever truly seen her. but everything changes when kimi is offered a spot in formula 1. because standing on that grid? is her brother. and kimi has no idea who she really is.

(a/n) : amazing idea anon! part two is already finished and will be posted in a few hours. i wasn’t sure if you wanted a happy or sad ending so i wrote both :)

fc : darianka on ig

part two here

—

5 years ago…(Before YN privates her instagram and goes radio silent.) (age 13 1/2)

yn_leclerc

57,089 likes.

yn_leclerc : au revoir pour toujours (goodbye forever)

—

username00 : hope this poor girl finds peace wherever she ends up

username15 : her family never deserved her truly and she must be so upset about the passing of her father

username20 : is she leaving monaco fully?

username17 : is this leclerc’s little sister??

username10 : yes

username17 : starting his f1 debut with family drama yikessss

username50 : grief is hard especially when you don’t have a good support system. we love you, yn.

liked by yn_leclerc

username11 : y’all act like this is so out of left field when none of the leclerc’s acknowledge her publicly and charles was legit asked about his family in an interview and said he had ‘two brothers’. I hope this poor girl heals.

username22 : the poor thing just lost her father a year ago and has been living in agony ever since. she seemed like she had no one to lean on.

—

yn_leclerc has unfollowed charles_leclerc

yn_leclerc has unfollowed arthur_leclerc

yn_leclerc has unfollowed lorenzotl

yn_leclerc has unfollowed leclerc_pascale

yn_leclerc has made her account private.

yn_leclerc is now its_yn on instagram.

—

3 months later

charles_leclerc has requested to follow you.

Block? Account is now blocked.

—

The house was quiet. Too quiet. No footsteps in the hallway. No one calling my name. Just the ticking of the clock above the kitchen sink and the sound of my own breath as I stood by the door, suitcase in hand, trying not to shake. I looked around one last time. The living room still had the blanket folded the way Papa used to do it. There were photos of us smiling—when I was younger, when I thought we were happy, before the silence swallowed everything after he was gone.

No one had come to stop me. Not Charles, not Arthur, not Lorenzo. I don’t even know if they noticed I was leaving. Or maybe they did and just thought I’d come back like the youngest sibling who didn’t know any better. But this time is much different.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from my godmother: “We’ll be at the airport in Bologna when you land, darling. We’re so glad you called.”

That was the only text I’d gotten all day. The car ride to the airport was a blur—buildings passing by like ghosts, my reflection in the window looking pale and unfamiliar. I clutched Papa’s old scarf the entire ride, fingers curled tight around the soft wool, as if holding on to it meant I wasn’t fully leaving him behind. When I reached my gate, I felt something shift. Not relief. Not excitement. Just this aching hollow where my home used to be. Boarding was called. I stood. Walked. Didn’t look back.

As I sat by the window and the plane began to taxi down the runway, I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. The tears came quietly, without a warning—just like the grief did. Just like the loneliness that had made a home inside me the day they stopped looking at me the way he used to.

I pressed my forehead to the cold glass and whispered, “au revoir, Papa.”

And I left. Forever. Or so I thought.

—

The air in Bologna was different. Warmer, softer, like it wasn’t trying to weigh me down. The sun stretched low across the sky as I stepped out of the airport, suitcase dragging behind me, heart heavier than anything I was carrying.

My godmother spotted me first. She didn’t say anything right away—just pulled me into a hug, the kind of hug that said I know you’re not ready to talk, but I’m here when you are. I clung to her like I was drowning.

The drive to their home was quiet. The roads curved through terracotta buildings and narrow alleys lined with vines and shutters and chipped paint that somehow looked like art. Everything felt old, but in a comforting way. Like maybe it had survived too much and was still standing anyway.

Their house was small and warm and smelled like garlic and old books. My room overlooked a garden with a lemon tree and chipped flower pots and two cats who seemed entirely uninterested in my arrival.

I set my suitcase down and sat on the edge of the bed. Everything was quiet again—but this time, it didn’t feel suffocating. Just… unfamiliar. I checked my phone. Nothing. I told myself it was the time difference. That maybe Charles was racing. That Arthur was busy with training. That Lorenzo had work. That someone—anyone—was thinking about me. But the silence didn’t change.

That first night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept staring at the screen, refreshing my messages. Waiting. Hoping. A stupid part of me thought I’d hear a knock at the door. That someone would get on a plane. That I’d wake up to a missed call or a message that said “Come home.”

But it never came. And deep down, I already knew it wouldn’t.

So I turned off my phone. Slipped under the unfamiliar sheets. And let the sound of Bologna—distant voices, the creak of old floorboards, a cat meowing in the courtyard—slowly lull me into something close to peace.

For the first time in a long time… I didn’t feel like a burden. Just a girl with a second chance.

—

I didn’t want to go. My godfather insisted I needed “fresh air and new faces.” I would’ve preferred to stay hidden in my room, curled up with a book or pretending I wasn’t still checking my phone every hour. But he was persistent in the gentle way only he could be — and before I knew it, I was being walked down the stone path to a small karting track just outside the city.

It smelled like rubber and oil and sun-warmed concrete. I hated it immediately. It reminded me of home — not the home I was trying to forget, but the one I couldn’t stop missing. There were a few kids scattered around, helmets under their arms, laughing and comparing lap times. I hovered awkwardly near the fence, hands in my sleeves, trying not to make eye contact. That’s when I saw him.

He wasn’t loud like the others. He was off to the side, squatting next to a kart with grease on his fingers and a serious look on his face. Blue eyes narrowed in concentration, curls messy under the weight of the sun. He glanced up at me. Just once. And then again — longer this time. Not in a curious, who’s the new girl kind of way. But softer. Like he already knew I didn’t want to be there. He wiped his hands on his suit and walked over, quiet steps across the pavement.

“You don’t like racing?” he asked, his Italian smooth but slow. Like he was trying not to scare me off.

I shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

He nodded like he understood more than he should for a boy his age. “I don’t like people watching me when I drive.”

I blinked. “Aren’t you supposed to be used to that?”

He shrugged back. “I race better when no one’s expecting anything from me.”

I looked at him then — really looked. And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like I was about to cry.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Kimi,” he said simply. “You?”

“YN.”

He smiled, just barely. “You look like you needed someone to talk to.”

I didn’t say anything. But I stayed. And so did he. We sat by the fence for the rest of the afternoon — not saying much, just watching the karts fly by. He offered me half of his water bottle and didn’t ask why my eyes looked red or why I flinched every time my phone buzzed. He just… stayed. And that was enough.

—

a few months later

His room always felt lived in. Not messy, just… honest. Trophies tucked into corners like he forgot to show them off, books stacked sideways on a shelf, a blanket half-hanging off the bed from when we’d watched a movie the night before and fallen asleep mid-scene. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, picking at the frayed end of the rug. Kimi lay on his stomach across the bed, chin resting on his arm, eyes lazily watching me in that calm, patient way of his.

“Do you ever miss home?” he asked quietly, out of nowhere.

I froze for a second. Then shrugged, trying to play it off. “Not really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound true.”

I didn’t answer. He didn’t push. Just waited, the silence stretching softly between us, like it always did when he sensed I had something I was trying not to say.

“I used to think it was normal,” I said finally. “To feel invisible.”

His expression didn’t change, but he sat up, like my voice had shifted something.

“They were busy. All the time. With important things. Big things. I was just… there. A shadow in the background. Quiet, easy to forget.” My fingers curled around the edge of the rug. “The only one who really noticed me was my dad.”

Kimi’s brows furrowed slightly. Still quiet.

“He made me feel like I wasn’t just an accident. He remembered things, small things. He showed up. He listened. And then… he was gone.” My throat tightened. “After that, it was like I stopped existing to them.”

I could feel my eyes sting but I didn’t let the tears fall. Not yet.

“I kept waiting for someone to knock on my door. To ask if I was okay. To notice I was breaking. But no one did. So I left.”

Kimi didn’t say a word. Just leaned down and passed me one of his racing gloves like it was a stress ball. I took it without thinking, gripping it tightly in my hands.

“I thought they’d message. Call. Ask me to come back. But they didn’t.” My voice cracked, just once. “They never did.”

A long beat passed. And then he said softly, “They don’t deserve you.”

I looked up at him, startled.

“I mean it,” he said, eyes steady and a little sad. “Whoever—wherever they are… they don’t deserve you.”

And that was the thing about Kimi. He never needed all the details to understand exactly what I meant. He slid off the bed and sat beside me on the floor, shoulder to shoulder. He didn’t say I’m sorry, or It’ll get better, or You should call them. He just sat there — present, quiet, and unwavering. For the first time in a long time, I felt like someone had chosen me. Not because of a name, or a title, or an obligation. Just… me.

—

The days had started feeling softer. Lighter. I wasn’t exactly happy — not yet — but I was starting to breathe again. I saw Kimi almost every day. We didn’t always talk much, but it didn’t matter. There was comfort in his silence. In the way he didn’t ask questions I wasn’t ready to answer. In the way he made space for me without trying to fix me. That night, it was raining. Not a thunderstorm — just a steady, quiet drizzle. We’d been watching a movie on the old TV in his living room, but we both lost interest halfway through. Now we were just sitting in front of the window, side by side on the floor, watching raindrops slide down the glass. His shoulder brushed mine. Not on purpose. Not entirely on accident either.

“You seem… lighter lately,” he said after a long stretch of quiet.

I looked down at my hands. “I guess I am.”

He nodded like he already knew that. Like he could feel it in the way I laughed a little easier. Like he saw the part of me that was slowly, finally, healing. I glanced at him. His curls were damp from earlier, still soft and sticking to his forehead. He had that look again — thoughtful, half-serious, like he was about to say something important but didn’t know how.

“Do you ever think about…” I started, then stopped.

He tilted his head. “About what?”

I swallowed. “Us.”

There was a pause, long enough that I thought maybe I’d ruined everything.

“All the time.”

My breath caught. He looked at me — really looked at me. “But I didn’t want to push. I didn’t know if you were ready.”

I blinked hard, my throat tightening. “I don’t know if I am. Not really. But I want to be. With you.”

He reached out slowly, giving me the space to move back. I didn’t. His fingers brushed mine, then threaded through them like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then, gently — so gently I almost thought I imagined it — he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t fireworks or heat or any of the things I thought a first kiss had to be. It was soft. Slow. Careful. It was safe.

When we pulled apart, he didn’t say anything right away. Just rested his forehead against mine and whispered, “You don’t have to run anymore.”

And for the first time in years, I believed that.

—

3 years ago (private IG) (age 15)

its_yn

liked by kimi.antonelli and 428 others.

its_yn : so proud of my boy <3

—

view 25 comments.

kimi.antonelli : mia bella regazza. ti amo così tanto ❤️ (my pretty girl. love you so much)

liked by its_yn

its_yn : je t’aime ma chérie

yourbff : so cute 😊

liked by its_yn

username22 : so she is missing for two years and pops back up with some random prema guy. hm

username17 : let her be. its clear they didn’t care for her. she has a new life.

liked by its_yn

username8 : she has grown so much in just two years, beautiful girl.

liked by its_yn

—

3 years ago (Age 15)

The paddock was buzzing with energy. People rushing around, shouting in Italian, cameras flashing. I stayed close to Kimi’s side, his hand occasionally brushing mine, grounding me. He introduced me to a few mechanics and an engineer, but I barely registered their names. My stomach was already tight. Then I saw him. It was just a glimpse — the back of his head at first, the familiar tilt of his shoulders as he laughed with someone near the Prema hospitality area. My heart stopped. Arthur.

I hadn’t seen him in two years. I didn’t even know he was racing for Prema now. My eyes locked onto him like a ghost had walked into the room. He hadn’t changed much. Taller, maybe. Sharper around the edges. But still him. He turned a little — not toward me, just enough for me to catch his profile — and I froze. My breath vanished. My chest started to cave in. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I turned sharply and pushed through the crowd, barely hearing Kimi call after me.

I found a quiet spot behind one of the team trucks, crouched down and pressed my hands over my mouth to muffle the sound of my breathing. Too fast. Too loud. I didn’t know if it was fear or guilt or some horrible mix of both, but the world was spinning.

A few minutes passed before I heard footsteps approach — soft, careful ones. Kimi didn’t say anything. He just sat beside me on the concrete, close but not touching.

After a moment, he offered me his water bottle and looked at me gently. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “But I’m here if you ever want to.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Not because I was sad — but because he never asked for more than I could give. Never pushed. Never demanded an explanation or a name. He just waited.

“I didn’t know that someone I used to know would be here,” I whispered after a long while.

Kimi nodded once. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

I wiped my face on my sleeve and stared down at my hands. “I thought I was far enough away. That I could breathe here.”

“You still can,” he said, soft but firm. “You’re safe. I promise.”

He wrapped me into him and pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head softly humming into my ear.

—

I hadn’t planned on staying.

After seeing Arthur, every instinct in my body told me to disappear — to slip away before he could look up and really see me. But then Kimi found me behind the truck and told me quietly, “My family’s here. Come sit with them, yeah? I think you need them today.”

He was right.

So now I sat in the Prema grandstand with Kimi’s little sister curled up beside me, legs swinging, playing with the bracelets on my wrist. His mother had tucked a handkerchief into my palm and told me, “You look pale, sweetheart. You need sugar,” before pressing a warm piece of cake into my hand from her bag.

They always treated me like I belonged — like I wasn’t this strange, fractured thing still learning how to be whole. Kimi’s father stood beside us, arms crossed, watching the track like a general watching his son go to war. The cars screamed past us in blurs of color, and every time Kimi’s flashed by, his sister would squeal and clap, and I couldn’t help but smile. Even through the noise, the nerves, the ache in my chest — I smiled. Until I saw the flash of red out of the corner of my eye. Arthur. He was walking along the lower row, near the barricades, clearly heading toward the engineers and team leads. A pass swung around his neck. He hadn’t noticed me — yet — but the sight of him this close sent a bolt of ice straight through my chest. I sat up straighter, turned my head slightly, trying to hide without drawing attention. My breathing quickened. Kimi’s father noticed instantly. He didn’t say anything. Just looked down at me for a half-second, eyes sharp and knowing, before taking a small step forward and positioning himself directly in front of me — calm, casual, like it was coincidence.

But I knew it wasn’t. He stood just enough in Arthur’s line of sight to shield me completely. He didn’t even glance back. Just crossed his arms and watched the race again like nothing was wrong. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Not from fear this time — but from something deeper. Something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time. Protected. Accepted.

The little girl beside me leaned into my shoulder and said, “Papa says Kimi drives best when you’re watching.”

I blinked fast and gave her a watery smile. “I think so too.”

Arthur passed by without noticing me. And I exhaled. Kimi’s father gave the smallest nod without looking back — a silent I’ve got you. And for the first time since I ran away from my old life, I didn’t feel like I was running anymore.

—

present day

The Antonelli kitchen felt like the safest place in the world. It smelled like basil, fresh dough, and melted cheese. Kimi’s mom was humming as she shaped dough into little hearts, laughing every time her kimi threw flour in the air like confetti. His dad was outside with the grill, pretending to be a world-renowned chef. Maggie was sat on the couch on her iPad, picking out what she thought I should wear on my first magazine cover. And I was leaned against the counter next to Kimi, our elbows brushing, my cheeks still warm from all the attention. They were celebrating me. Me — the girl who once ran away in silence. Me— the girl who was just picked up by one of the biggest model agencies in the world.

“Model status suits you,” Kimi teased, reaching over to flick a piece of mozzarella off my shirt. “Soon you’ll be too cool to sit at my kitchen table.”

I snorted. “Right, because Vogue’s dying for a girl who cries watching dog videos and can’t walk in heels.”

He smirked. “That’s exactly your charm.”

I didn’t respond — not out loud. Just looked at him the way I always did when I didn’t have the words to say thank you for staying. For loving me when I couldn’t love myself. His phone buzzed on the counter. Once. Twice. Then nonstop.

Kimi’s dad poked his head through the back door. “Tesoro, your phone’s vibrating like it owes someone money.”

Kimi chuckled, swiping it up and answering casually.

“Ciao, Kimi speaking…”

Then came the pause. I watched it happen in slow motion — the shift in his voice, his posture, the disbelief spreading across his face like sunlight cracking through clouds.

“Wait—really?” he said, straighter now. “Like… official? For this season?”

The phone slipped from his ear a moment. He looked at me — stunned. Breathless. And then he laughed. Just once. A sharp, stunned sound.

“They want me. Formula 1. I’m in.”

The room exploded. His mom gasped, then started crying. His sister squealed so loud the dog barked. His dad came rushing in, hugging them both, eyes glassy with pride. Kimi turned toward me, beaming, his arms already opening like they always did when the world became too much. And I stepped into them — because I loved him, and he had worked for this his whole life, and nothing in the world could’ve made me prouder.

But behind my smile, a storm was brewing. F1 meant exposure. Paddocks. Media. Faces from a past I’d hidden like a wound. It meant Charles. It meant the life I left behind — the life I never wanted to explain — was about to come crashing into the one I’d built with Kimi. He pulled back slightly, still grinning, forehead pressed to mine. “Can you believe it?”

I nodded. Swallowed the lump in my throat. “Of course I can.”

But deep down, I wasn’t sure who I was more afraid of facing — the brothers I’d run from…Or the boy I loved who still didn’t know.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Let’s get to know our newest rookie— Kimi Antonelli. It was just announced that the 18 year old will be taking Lewis Hamilton’s (big shoes to fill) spot at Mercedes. Born and raised in Bologna, Kimi is the son of racing driver, Marci Antonelli. He has had back to back Direct-Driver European Championships and he won his first title in 2022 F4 Championship with Prema racing. He has been a member of the Mercedes Junior team since 2019. Now— we know what you are all thinking ladies. Does he have a girlfriend? Are we getting a new wag? Short answer being, yes— he does have a girlfriend. 18 year old, YN, who just recently signed with one of the world’s biggest modeling agencies and we do have to say…she is quite gorgeous. Her once-private Instagram account recently went public — and fans immediately noticed Kimi appearing in multiple soft, cozy photos going back years. No tags. No captions. Just vibes. She has also appeared on Kimi’s account many many times. However— F1 fans are clocking something. She looks familiar— with some insisting they’ve seen her around the paddock long before she ever appeared on Kimi’s feed. Let us know what you think below!

view 120,090 comments.

username00 : is this the YN?? like the one we all know.

username20 : WAIT. am i insane or does she look like she could be a leclerc??

username17 : because she is

username20 : huh?

username17 : the leclerc’s have always had a little sister— she was just always left behind. she disappeared shortly after their dad died. guess this is where she was

username15 : my friend is one of the people that still had access to her instagram while it was private and before she deleted all the family stuff. it is most definitely the same yn.

username000 : OMG OMG yn return to the paddock was not on my 2025 bingo card

username7 : this is the drama i needed this season to open with YES MAMA

username11 : wow she has grown up so much. she is stunning. definitely can see those leclerc genes

username0 : her and kimi are so cute omg. they’ve been together since they were 15

this tweet has reached 500k retweets.

—

third person point of view

It was a quiet evening in the Leclerc apartment. The windows were cracked open, letting in the soft hum of the sea below, and the TV played old F2 highlights that neither Charles nor Arthur were really watching. The off-season had given them rare downtime — but lately, neither of them had really known what to do with it.

Arthur was half-scrolling through Instagram, letting the silence settle between them. Then he stopped. His thumb hovered over the screen. His body went still.

“Charles,” he said, voice tight.

Charles didn’t look up. “What?”

“No—Charles. Look.”

Arthur turned the phone toward him. It was a post from a well-known F1 gossip page. The caption wasn’t what caught Charles’s attention, though. It was the photos — grainy at first, then clearer, softer. A girl in a sun-drenched field. On a balcony. Sitting next to Kimi Antonelli, smiling like the world wasn’t heavy anymore. Her smile. Her face. It couldn’t be. But it was.

His breath caught. “No…”

“It’s her,” Arthur whispered. “It’s YN.”

They both stared. It had been five years. Five years since she’d vanished overnight with nothing but a vague message and a suitcase. Five years since they’d called her phone, left angry voicemails, waited by the door. Five years without their little sister. And now here she was.

Not a girl anymore. Not the quiet, overlooked youngest who used to sit at the end of the dinner table, trying not to take up space. She looked like a woman now. Confident. Radiant. Her curls were longer, darker. Her cheekbones sharper. Her eyes… the same, but older. Like they’d seen more than any eighteen-year-old ever should have. Charles swallowed hard, eyes locked on the screen.

“She’s stunning,” he murmured, almost like the words had escaped him before he realized he said them.

Arthur didn’t respond right away. His throat was tight. “She looks… happy.”

Charles nodded slowly. “Yeah. She does.”

Another beat passed.

“She went public,” Arthur added. “Her account. It’s not private anymore. That wasn’t an accident.”

Charles took the phone from him, scrolling carefully through her feed. The soft aesthetics. The little captions. Kimi in the background of nearly every photo, his arm around her waist, his chin on her shoulder.

“She really stayed gone,” Arthur said. “She meant it.”

And it hurt. It shouldn’t have surprised them — not really. But it did. They’d spent so long pretending she’d come back on her own. That time would heal things without them having to face what they’d done — or failed to do. But now, the girl they barely said goodbye to had grown up into someone they didn’t even recognize. Someone who had built a life without them.

“She’s with Kimi,” Charles said, staring down at one of the photos. “She’s been with him a while, I think.”

Arthur looked over. “Do you think he knows who she is?”

Charles shook his head. “If he did, we’d have known a long time ago.”

Silence stretched between them again. Then Arthur said it — the question neither of them had said aloud in years.

“Do you think she hates us?”

Charles stared out the window, jaw tight, eyes glossy.

“I think… she had every right to.”

—

2K notes · View notes

stalkedandblocked · 5 months ago

Text

camgirl!reader x sevika

tw. reader and sevika are live, regular au (?? i have no idea how to word it 😭) masturbation (reader), strap on, fingering, cunnilingus (giving and receiving), sevika puts you in a headlock, squirting, overstim, sucking the strap

while in college you get a little bored of your mundane life, and with some free time during the night and also in need of some more money you start an only fans account. after growing quite a following you decide to do a raffle to stream with one of your fans to make things more interesting.

a/n: this took so long holy moly. i hope y’all liked this because this is one of my first times writing a full fic <3 like and reblog if ur a real sevika truther :D

with your tripod and camera on your bed infront of you, you moan, “mmmf… im so close,” you arch your back off the bed as you press the vibrator harder onto your clit. you spread your legs wider, giving a show to the camera. “fuck- oh my god,” your hips start bucking and you throw your head back, you moan and cry as your orgasm hits you, the painful feeling of overstimulation comes quickly but you keep the vibrator on your pussy and your whole body trembles through your orgasm. panting like a dog, you finally turn off the vibrator and place it to the side.

you lift your shaky body and sit on your knees in front of the camera, putting your hands in your lap to squeeze your breast together. you start to announce the little idea you had. messages are spammed in the chat, asking for you to chose them, that they’ll even send money for you to choose them, and asking about what you mean by this. you only giggle and say, “it’s just a thought you pervs, i thought it might be fun to chose one of you randomly and see if you’d be interested in streaming with me.”

the chat dies down on the questions and you say a few more words to say goodbye, before ending the stream by blowing them a kiss.

after hopping in the shower and getting yourself clean, you change into some comfy pajamas before making a post on your page.

‘hi to all my fans! i’m so glad you guys were interested in my proposal, if your in the area dm me for a chance to stream with me ;), i can’t wait!’ after pressing send you turn your phone off and head to bed, hoping that hopefully this won’t be a mistake, and that whoever you chose isn’t entirely horrendous looking.

the next day you check your phone, a couple hundred dm’s are in your inbox. most being people from far away asking if they can fly out but you stick to your word, you find one from an account who sent their address. “let’s see what this person has to offer” you think to yourself. you text back and forth before ultimately asking for a photo of them holding some id next to them so you know they’re not lying about their identity.

a while passed before the account responds, there was no indication about who this person might be so your surprised to see a woman, another notifications sends and it’s a photo of her id attached. you look closer at it, her names sevika, she’s quite a bit older than you, but that didn’t bother you. you ponder for a bit, you’ve never had sex with a woman, but was not opposed to the idea. but yes, even thought the photo of herself is a bit awkward, even reminding you of a parents facebook photo which makes you laugh to yourself a bit, she is very attractive. and from what you can see she seems quite muscular.

“alright”, and you send her an address of a restaurant near both of your homes and tell her to meet you there tomorrow and 4pm.

the next day, you put on a simple going out outfit, nothing to make it obvious your meeting a stranger to fuck her, then head out the door. as you walk to the restaurant you feel butterflies, obviously you had only even been with men, but she was, well, very sexy you thought. the idea excited you but also made you nervous.

as you sat at a table and tell the waitress your waiting for somone, another walks into the restaurant. you miss her face but her hair is tied half up and it’s short, a few inches above her shoulder. she’s also is very tall. you gulp, from what you remember that looks like her. she scans the restaurant before you make eye contact. she walks over to you and sits across from you.

“you must be sevika,” you smile, feeling more nervous than you expected to be. when she responds her voice is deep and smooth, her words are almost seductive. compared to your messages and how she talks to you she seems much more ready and nonchalant about this whole situation in real life. everything about her attracts you, “so did you have any ideas of when you’d like to.. ahem” you try to keep your voice down so no one hears and gets any ideas, “..stream”.

sevika is lazily leaning back in her char, legs nudged open a bit. she leans over the table, resting her arms on it, “i’m ready whenever you are.” you have no idea if she meant to make you flustered, or tried to make it sound sexy but her words melt you brain almost. you stand quickly and grab her arm, “let’s do it today, let’s do it now!” you squeal out before your dragging her out of the restaurant.

sevika had driven so she directs you to her car, you drive to your house and you walk up the stair together after she grabs a bag out of the back of her car. your whole body is warm and fuzzy with excitement. “i usually wear some lingerie when i start, as you probably know. would you like some or do you want to start naked?” you ask, grabbing a matching to set to change into.

“naked.” she responds, she watches as you walk to the bathroom to change. you throw a robe out of the bathroom so she can cover herself before you start. you come out in your set, wearing a robe as well. she sits on your bed watching, “let me set up the camera and then we can begin. did you have anything in mind on what we want to do, what we want to follow?”

“i have ideas for later, but let’s not worry about that now.”

you begin the stream, sevika sits naked on your bed, and you take the robe off infront of the camera. sevika places a hand on your hip guiding you to her lap before you crawl over her. each touch feels like sparks, your already soaked and anticipating what’s gonna happen. you grab eachother and start kissing, her tongue runs over your lip and your lips crash against each other. you sit down on her lap and slowly move your hips over her muscular thighs, you moan into her mouth. “that’s a good girl,” she praises, before continuing to kiss you.

she grabs your hips roughly, helping them move back and forth, you arch and moan for her. your chat is going crazy, some even shocked that it’s another woman. she stops your grinding and lifts your hips up a bit before dragging her thick finger up and down your slit. both of you seem like you forgot that your streaming and just enjoy each others bodies. she rubs your clit in circles, making your toes curl. she takes you from on top of her and flips you to face the camera, spreading your legs, the exposing position making you even wetter. she slides your panties to the side so the camera can see your wet cunny, she starts rubbing circles on your clit makes you throw your head back.

she chuckles at you, “don’t make me hold you head up. already so sensitive, huh?” her mocking words make you moan once more, she begins teasing your hole before nudging her index and middle finger into you. her fingers are so thick and long, your already seeing stars, “fuck! yes! right there sevika, oh my god-” you scream out as she adds her ring finger inside. your juices leak all over her lap and hand. your head leans against her and you mewl into her ear, begging to cum. as you finally start to reach your orgasm she pulls out her fingers and slaps your pussy.

“fuck!” you cry out as your body reacts to your ruined orgasm, sevika chuckles. you breathe heavily as sevika manhandles your basically limp body, laying it on the bed, she starts pulling down your panties and the slick dripping between your legs is more visible than ever. you arch your back slightly off the bed and she unclips your bra, she stops what she’s doing and stares at them. you giggle and can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or because of her expression, like she’s almost captivated. your breasts fall from the bra and lay prettily on display, which sevika quickly takes advantage of and begins to suck at on of your nipples and knead the other. you let at small moans while kisses litter your tits.

she lifts her head up and smirks “are you ready?” she asks, with having no idea what she’s talking about, you eagerly nod. she begins moving her body over yours and places her bare pussy on your face, letting down all her weight, then spreading your legs and burrying her face in your own cunt. your almost shocked by this, she starts teasing the tip of her tongue on your clit, before diving it into your hole, tongue fucking you and hitting all the good spots in your pussy. you moan against her cunt and try to copy her actions. you suck her clit and lap your tongue up and down her pussy, you squeeze around her tongue in response to her moaning. it’s low and vibrates through your whole body. it’s not long before you cum because of the previous teasing she had done earlier. you squeeze your legs around her head and buck up, trying to keep up the pace with how your lapping her pussy, but inevitably struggle from how your body is shaking against her face.

sevika places one last sloppy kiss to your clit then raises herself, and grinds against your face until she orgasms, gripping onto your hair. the moans she lets out makes your pussy ache.

while coming down form your high you lay next to each other panting, forgetting about the stream itself. “you okay, baby?” sevika asks, places kisses on your neck. “mhm,” you mumble, relaxing into the bed as she kisses you. “well, i think it’s time for what i had planned for earlier”, she gets up and disappears off camera. across the room she pulls something out of her bag that she had grabbed earlier. she begins to attach something to her hips, and before you know it she’s standing over you with a strap on.

it’s so thick and long, you gulp. not even with any men had you had to take something for big. “i know your wet enough but, i don’t think this is” sevika lets out a sly smile. her height already towers over you, so even standing and you sitting in the bed has you face to face with it. “suck it.” she orders and obediently you do. you place your hands around it, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes, and slowly thrust your mouth down onto it. she stares down at you and bites her lip. you bob your head up and down, slowly reaching down with each thrust, your throat adjusts around it and you gag against it and sevika laughs. she places one hand on your head to tug at your hair. once you finally reach down the base she holds your head down. the length makes your eyes tear up as you gag even more.

she pulls your hair back until your off of it and pushes you down to the bed. still grasping your hair she puts your face down into the pillows and keeps your ass up before crawling over you. she has your face infront of the camera and wraps her arm around you. her thick biceps flex as she grabs the strap to line it up at your cunt. she wastes no time pushing it in, when she bottoms out your eyes roll back and without even moving it feels almost heavenly. she starts thrusting slowly before they become almost rapid, her arm squeezes around your throat even more and you moan and gasp. “taking it like such a good little slut,” she purred. you let out a messy smile and your moans just couldn’t stop coming out. they way it felt against your g-spot and pounded into you made your toes curl.

“se-sevika!” you drooled, “i’m gonna cum, please! hah, keep going!” you screamed, sevika took no time and started pounding into you more, her free arm rubbing your clit, fast circles against the puffy aching bud. your body shook and your eyes rolled back into your head, sevika thought they might never go back. you cried out before you finally squirted all over yourself and the bed, the liquid covering your stomach, the sheets and sevikas hand. “holy shit” sevika gasped at the reaction to your orgasm. your whole body was stiff and shaking, your mouth tried to let out moans but nothing came out as your eyes rolled back as hard as they could. your body went limp onto the bed, sevika pulled out of you, a line of slick breaking as the contact broke. you whined at the sudden emptiness.

she grabs the camera and faces it towards you, she spreads your weak legs showing the amount of cum that had leaked from your hole and everything that had dripped onto the sheets and between your thighs. “took it like the good slut she is,” she grabbed a handful of your ass and let out a laugh before she abruptly ended the stream.

she threw the camera onto the bed carelessly, then asked, “so, want to meet again next week?”

#sevika arcane smut #sevika smut #sevika arcane x reader #sevika arcane x you #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x reader #arcane smut #sevika x y/n #sevika arcane x y/n #sevika arcane #x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n

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beloveds-embrace · 8 months ago

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noona. noon. any angsty thoughts to share for the duke au? 👁️ (i’m craving angst sorry)

Original post. || cw: angst, neglect

I DO!! Angst version of the au would be if you weren’t welcomed at all. Sure, no one is being flat out rude to you, no one is actively sabotaging you and John doesn’t hit or force you into anything.

But it’s lonely.

The maids barely touch you, as if disgusted they have to help and tend to the woman their Duke needed to and not wanted to marry, and the butlers are the same. Especially the head butler Garrick. You still don’t know his first name and he doesn’t seem inclined to tell you.

During the dinner… nights with John, you’ve started noticing that your food isn’t quite as well done as his? Less decorated, occasionally burnt or not cooked well, but you don’t want to cause any trouble so you remain silent and John never asks why you seem to eat so little.

You do also meet Duke Riley, the man that John is said to have an incredibly close friendship with, something born during his time servicing the kingdom. You’ve heard so much about him, from bad to good, and you wonder how he actually is.

In the end, you wish you hadn’t met him, too. The humiliation of being flat-out ignored in your own home while he speaks amicably with John…

So yes. Life as Duchess Price isn’t a happy one, but you are just glad you aren’t physically hurting.

But you do find solace in the only kindness your parents had bothered to show you before they gave you away; your personal knight, König. He is the only one to not treat you as such. He is the only one you can confide in, feel just a little bit of happiness and friendship with even if you haven’t even seen his face yet.

“I’m so tired,” you whisper to him one night, under the blanket of the night sky. You’d thrown a simple shawl over your shoulders, and hadn’t questioned it when he fell in steps behind you, always a protective shadow. Today had been hard. You had also decided to no longer dine with John, not too excited about the lackluster food and the stilted conversations. Cold maids, lonely night… you ached for something more.

You take in a shuddering breath, wrapping the shawl tighter around yourself. Konig stands right beside the bench you are sitting on, a familiar and comforting sight and presence. But tonight, it’s not enough. “I’m so tired, König.” You repeat, your voice cracking.

König simply stares at you for a while; you are used to it, used to everything about him. The mask, the accent, the unyielding body that is always keeping you safe. The quiet congestions you have had, during the days you lock yourself away in your office to ignore the loneliness and sadness plaguing you.

You aren’t used to seeing König bend down in front of you, holding his hands out until you place them in his. Familiar pale eyes peer up at you. Proper etiquette doesn’t matter to you in this moment; who will chastise you for the lack of it when this entire duchy holds only the most basic form of respect for you?

Even if they did, you would not let go of König, your confidant. Your knight.

“…What do you need, mylady?”

After a silent moment, you take in a deep breath and look back at him. “…I want… someone who loves me enough to be kind towards me. I want someone who loves me.”

König nods his head. With bated breath, you watch silently as he brings your hands forward, under his mask, to kiss each knuckle on your hands.

“I am your knight, mylady. I am your sword, and your shield. I, too, can be your lover if that is what you want, mylady. Whatever you desire, it is my duty to provide.” König breathes out against your skin, eyes not once flicking away, words not once breaking. He is fully devoted in his decision. “Will you allow me, mylady? The decision is your, always has been. I cannot take you away from this horrible place-“ not yet. “-but I can give you my love and devotion, just as I’ve always done. Will you allow me, mylady?”

And after everything you’ve been through, all the pain and loneliness and exclusion- you can’t say no.

“…Yes, König.”

(By the time John begins to realize that he may have misjudged you, once you find out the truth, it is already far too late for mending any bridges. There is no particular feeling when you look at him, or any of his men. You only ask that no one bothers your time alone with your shadow, your knight. It’s far too late for anything.)

Part 2 + dukedom au masterlist

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sparklychimecho · 5 days ago

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🎐 Hello! Thank you for enjoying my AU enough to write about it, I'm putting a lot of work into making it both fun and emotional!🌟I'm so fascinated by how people interpret my depictions of the characters since I do have a bit of a different take on the twins specifically. ^^"

Don't worry about the writing choices you made either, I like them and think they fit well with the circumstances of the plot for your story. (thank you for not just making him a villain, I know my design for him kinda makes him look like one but I swear he's not ^^") My Emmet is really a good guy just like Ingo is, they are also naturally very intense people and in bad situations. I think either of them would make drastic choices if needed to.

I also drew something out for it as well real quick! i hope you like it! Thank you again for enjoying my AU!🌟✨

Chapter 6: Diarchy

New CHAPTER of Station Hopping!!! Nadir looks for some extra help! And he almost dies again! Oops!

Not too many warnings this time around, but still read safely!!

The Author of the featured AU is below the cut!!

@sparklychimecho It's you this chapter!!! I hope you don't object too much to my character choices,,,,

#Station Hopping #unova champion!emmet #does this count as an AU of AU? possibly idk #I have so many thoughts #like the train to the champion's room? peak #I want all of his special interests in one place now lol #I'm glad the pokemon's personalities come across well in my AU #all of their pokemon are very protective of their only trainer #my emmet also tends to mask more now that Ingo is missing #my ingo and emmet have autism I hope that came across to everyone it will be more obvious as more characters show up #also emmet's the truth guy so I think that would make him a bit more adaptable that Ingo he accepts the truth and moves forward from there #Champion emmet sees a wet purrloin version of himself and just rolls with the weird situation as he should lol #The use of victini's energy is correct I believe it revitalizes but doesn't heal Emmet does get better from stone edge but it lingers #i apologize for not answering your ask I tend to be wary of most people on the internet these days...it's hard for me to respond sometimes #I read the rest of the fic and I like it #I may have to draw up official character sheets and post them for everyone now I really want to talk about all of them now (★‿★)#making fan art and fic of my stuff is dangerous from how excited I get I am sorry ^^"

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rin-may-1103 · 1 year ago

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The Master Post.

Please actually read this, I can't keep up with all the comments. 🥲

Tag List? Yes, there is a tag list. If you'd like to be ADDED, please leave a comment on the Stories Linked Post or the Tag List Post. If the tags aren't working for some reason, you can either Follow this post by clicking the bell (or the three dots) or follow the Story's Linked Post the same way. I'll update both Relevant Posts when there is a New Part.

Yes, I have an Ao3. It's under the same user name, just with (_) instead of (-). Most of my works are locked due to personal preference, so you'll need an account if you want to read most of them.

I hope y'all keep enjoying the stories as much as I enjoy writing them.

(currently dealing with life, so posts are going to be very, very slow, sorry.)

Stories and Summaries:

The Wrong Robin Au (DP x DC):

Tim Drake saw Danny do a quadruple somersault, which resulted in him believing Danny was the first Robin for years. He still figured out Bruce but thinks Dick is in the dark. Now with the second Robin dead, and Batman quickly reaching the end of his sanity, Tim takes it upon himself to get Robin to come back. Danny is very confused when this random kid tries to blackmail him into becoming Robin.

Badger Day Au (DP x DC):

Danny is stuck in a Groundhog Day kinda situation and he would like to be let out now, please. The league is very worried.

Delilah's language (DP x DC):

Bruce Wayne approaches the Fentons because Damian is a big fan of Danny for his work in the conservation of the purpleback gorilla. So now Danny is going to the birthday of this random kid so he can teach him gorilla sign language so he can talk to the purple-back gorilla as well.

Just a Bite (DP x DC):

Danny's homeless on the streets of Gotham, when he gets a terrible idea from some passerby. Three weeks after living with the Waynes, they still haven't noticed he's not supposed to be there.

72 hours (DP x DC):

During a battle with the rest of the league, John Constantine is accidentally sent into the palace of Pariah Dark, Tyrant of the Dead, and Bane of the Living. Danny just wanted to have a simple spa day.

Biggest Regret (DP x DC):

Danny Had been optimistic when he created The Email. Three days, that's what he gave himself. Three days to fix or get out of whatever problem he was dealing with and open his laptop to restart the timer. Three days. Past him had thought that If he ever got caught they'd just kill him; it's what they said they would do this whole time, so why wouldn't he think otherwise? It's been more than three days, and at this point, he's just glad someone could fulfill his last wish.

The Disappointment (DP x DC):

Ra's has stated his disapproval of one of the twins, now Talia is rushing to get them out of there and to Bruce to be safe. Danny has other ideas.

Black Retrievers and Golden Cats (DP x DC):

He remembered how it took two hours for his mind to catch up to what he had done, two hours for him to realize he had just killed his brother. It took another two days to realize his brother was never coming back, that the pits had not worked. Damian stared at the camera footage infront of him, his family's voices buzzing with theories and analyzing everything they could. He remembered his brother's bright carefree smile just minutes before Damian had killed him. So, why? Why was he seeing it again?

College Rivalry with the Genius Toddler in the First Row. (DP X DC):

Tim doesn't understand how he's losing at university to a toddler. Danny's not having a great time, but it's fine because now he can terrorize Red Robin.

The Willpower of Space (DP X DC):

A faulty green lantern ring wakes from it's accidental eon long sleep due to how powerful Danny's willpower is. It decides that Danny is a worthy wielder and grants Danny the ability to use it. There's just one problem; Danny keeps dying. and the ring doesn't understand what's going on. Oa is very concerned.

The Weeping Boy Au (DP X DC):

Opening a portal to a dimension between dimensions always leads to some sort of accident; for instance, Danny's death. It just so happens that at the exact moment the portal opened, his earth and another had overlapped, leaving his death to loop repeatedly in the other for as long as the portal stayed. This wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that Danny just accidentally turned the portal off and is now in the other dimension instead of the zone. (The Batfamily, who have been watching this kid die over and over again, are very concerned.)

The Eyes of Death Au (DP X DC):

In an attempt to prevent a cult from causing problems, Danny accidentally convinces the Justice League and Co. that he's possessing himself. Damian is not happy that his boyfriend is apparently the new June Moone.

Aspiring escape artist (DP X DC):

The new foster kid might be a little more traumatized than the other kids they usually take in for a while, but it's not like they can't handle it. That is, until Danny started sneaking out, past the bat-grade security system, without getting caught and without using his powers.

Through Your Eyes (DP X DC):

Sometimes, soulmates randomly switch bodies. It doesn't always happen; in fact, it's actually more common to not switch. Danny hadn't really thought he'd ever switch, doubly so after his accident. So you can imagine his surprise when not only does he switch, but he switches with Damian Wayne, aka Robin.

Cabin 18 and the Missing Kids (DP X DC):

Vlad is planning something, unfortunately, Danny's stuck at camp and can't sneak away. But maybe that's ok, because what's this about missing kids? And who does his roommates think they are fooling with their 'normal' kid acts? They're obviously vigilantes. And hey, maybe Danny might actually get a break for once, it's not like his parents can't defend themselves.

Turn back the Frozen Sands of Time (DP X DC):

Danny wakes up in his nine-year-old body; no memories of how he got here or why. All he knows is he needs to stick to the timeline, figure out what happened, and fix it. So, why did his mother just merc his grandfather, and why are there a group of vigilantes (who, for all intents and purposes, shouldn't exist as a team yet) yelling at her and his brother?

Perks of Being Half Dead (DP X SPN):

It was too dangerous for Danny to go back; he doubted it would ever be safe again, not after what they did to him. But it wasn't as if he had a choice at the moment anyway; the likelihood of his getting home from this new dimension was looking slim to none. And now he's being mistaken for some hunter's kid, what the hell, Clockwork?

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celestie0 · 9 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch.4 in a mother’s eyes

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 4/x

ᰔ words. 10k (omg a whole number...very sexy)

a/n. hellooo my ihm friends! hope you're all doing well. ahh i'm glad to finally be posting this chapter lolol. it's a littleee off tangent from what happens in ch3, but still has some important plot developments. it does dive into feelings of depression & anxiety, so just wanted to give a warning on that! but yea other than that i hope you enjoy and see you at the bottom!! :) also so sorry if there are errors i only had time to skim through it once :((

nav. masterlist

“Just go ahead and sign right here for me.”

You take the pen from the hospice nurse’s hand. It’s cheap black plastic with a pink fuzzy pom pom attached to the end of it with peeling glue.

Your eyes briefly flit across the paragraphs detailed in printed ink until your gaze lands on the highlighted lines at the bottom of the page. Your signature. Spouse’s signature.

“We’ll need to have your husband come here to sign the paperwork as well, since he’ll have to add your mother on his list of dependents, but we can certainly get started on expediting this process for you since the insurance has already been pre-approved,” the nurse tells you as she accepts your signed paperwork and then neatly tucks it into one of the compartment holders.

The afternoon goes by smoothly, with your mother surprisingly patient as she sits in the waiting room while you wait for the nurses to formally show you to her new room.

You thought that you could put off putting her in hospice for a little longer, because in all honesty, you weren’t prepared to let her go just yet. You weren’t prepared to not have her in the house anymore. But lately, she’s been putting herself in lots of danger, like attempting to take her own medications when she does not know the correct dosing, and forgetting things on the stove when she attempts to cook.

But the last straw was when you came home from a very brief run to the grocery store at night a couple days ago to see a handful of your neighbors out on the front lawn with your mother at their side. She had apparently gotten out of the house and walked down the neighborhood, then fallen on the sidewalk but was unable to get up. When your neighbors had found her, a miracle as they were just coming home from dinner and caught sight of her in the illumination of their headlights, they tried to help her get up but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even tell the firefighters that came by to help her what her name was, or what year it was, or where she lived.

It was when you realized you couldn’t even keep her safe anymore that you had to let go.

“Is that a wedding ring?” your mother asks, pointing a trembling finger to it as she lays tucked inside her new hospice bed, “are you married?”

You glance down at the ring Gojo gave you in the courthouse, almost surprised to find that you were still wearing it in good faith. “Yes, mom. I am.”

“Why am I here?” she asks you, “I don’t want to be here.”

You stiffen a little. Although you were mentally preparing yourself to answer these questions, the preparation didn’t make it any easier. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just for a little short while, okay? The doctors want to run some tests on you.”

“Who are you married to?” she asks.

“To Satoru,” you tell her, “our neighbor.”

She lets out a small gasp. “The sweet boy who fixed our A/C?”

You roll your eyes. not sure why your mother has hyper fixated on that memory with Gojo when most days she’ll look at you like you’re a stranger. “Yes mom.”

“Oh, I like him,” she tells you with an affectionate nod. She hesitates slightly, wearisome of some other thought that flashes through her mind. “How long have you been married?”

You let out a small sigh. This is already a conversation you had with her a couple days ago, and it doesn’t feel good to lie to her. It was hard enough to do once, but to have to constantly lie to her over and over again over all the smallest things just so that she stays calm and safe and happy seems to drain you of all your energy and happiness you had left in your bones.

Little white lies, that’s what they are. Harmless ones. That’s what you tell yourself to absolve yourself of the guilt.

“I’ll come back soon, okay? I’ll tell you more about him some other day,” you say to her, speaking gently in the way an adult would speak to a child. The way she used to speak to you. You could never exactly pinpoint when those roles became reversed.

You finish discussing some more insurance matters with the front-desk nurse as she puts together a small folder of documents for you. While she works, you glance at the little counter shelf that includes a plethora of pamphlets on how to deal with the complicated feelings that arise from putting a loved one in hospice care, and dealing with the emotions of having a relative with advanced stage dementia. They are pretty brochures, lovingly creased at the folds as if looked through multiple times by people who walk in and out of this facility, but seemingly only few take them home. You slip one of each into your folder when the nurse hands it to you, manage the best smile possible, and then turn on your heel to head out the hospice doors.

The sun is setting outside as you take the walk back to your car, which was purposefully parked a half mile away to afford you the luxury of a melancholic stroll. Somehow, you feel like you’ve left a piece of yourself back at the hospice. A feeling you can’t quite shake from your bones.

Your feet stop walking somewhere along the sidewalk on their own, the street lights above you flickering brighter into life as the sky is now a dusty gray with only streaks of purple. There’s a liquor store you spot across a small parking lot to your right, and you’re guided towards it, but not without a sickening feeling in your chest.

When you open the door, the bell at the top jingles, and you glance to the right where you see a lanky young man playing some sort of shooter game on his phone by the cash register. You grab a bottle of vodka, a bottle of white wine, some packs of skittles, one of the mini pizza boxes at the hot food station, and then dump it all onto the counter.

The young man scans all your items without even so much as sparing you a glance, but does take a look at your ID, then says, “Total’s $68.65, cash or card?”

“Card.”

Just before you tap your card, something displayed behind the cashier counter catches your eye. Something familiar, something tempting, something you weigh in your head about twenty times within one millisecond all due to the cortisol coursing through your veins and you eventually say, “Uh, and could I get one of those, too?”

The cashier looks behind himself to what you’re pointing at before turning around. “Sure.”

The same jingle is heard on top of your head as you leave the store, now with a burning hot mini pizza box in your hand as well as a plastic bag that carries your candy and the two clinking bottles of alcohol.

“Oh!! omg, y/n,” you hear a feminine voice call out and you’re instantly wincing. The last thing you wanted was to be bothered right now. You just wanted to go home and get drunk and then pass out on the floor of your living room. But alas, the world is small.

You turn around to see Hana come running across the sidewalk lot towards you, and when she’s about a few feet away, she glances down at your hands and all the things you were carrying. You quickly shove your last-minute purchase into your jacket pocket with a shameful conscience, and try to hide the plastic bag of liquor behind your calves. There was no hiding the pizza box, but at least that was the least incriminating.

“Oh, Hana, wow! What a coincidence seeing you here,” you say to her, pressing your lips into a small smile.

“Yeah, I um,” she points over her shoulder towards the hospice that’s standing tall in the darkness of night, cells with windows illuminated with light. If you didn’t know any better, you would think it was a prison. “Remember I told you my friend’s mom is sick and she’s at this hospice?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I was just visiting her mom with her,” she tells you.

“Aw,” you comment, “I see, I see.”

You adore Hana, you really do. She was there for you when the whole Yuna and Choso thing went down, picking your shifts up for a good week when you couldn’t stomach going into work when your ex-best friend’s stupid face was gloating in the halls over how she stole your boyfriend. Hana was there for you when you were a new hire and all the doctors were being bitchy about a “newbie in the ED”, but she stood up for you, even cussed the fuck out of one of attendings for the whole hall to hear when you were being disrespected by one of them. She’s someone you can beam about how hot the EMT and Firefighter men that stroll into the ED are, too. A priceless companion.

And even though you two have hung out after hours sometimes, it was still always a little awkward to see a coworker outside of work.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I actually, um, was going to tell you at our shift tomorrow, but I just admitted my mom to the hospice too,” you say, “and…thanks a lot for telling me about it. I really appreciate it. It seems like a wonderful facility.”

Her eyes briefly widen with surprise before they soften once again. “Oh, that’s wonderful, love. I hope all goes well. And your little insurance scam worked! Good for you!”

“Shhh,” you hiss at her, looking around yourself with paranoia, “the feds are everywhere.”

She laughs, sweet in the air, before the sound settles and she looks at you with something reminiscent of well-intentioned concern. Her eyes flit to the plastic bag you were still holding behind your legs. “Hey…um, if…if you ever want some company when you come to visit your mom, just let me know. I hope you know you don’t have to do everything alone.”

You blink at her, sucking in a short breath to respond, but it only leaves you as a slight puff of air. There’s a silent gratitude that you give her, because it’s hard for you to express any feelings with words, but you’ve found that the people in your life who know you best can always read you without them.

“Thank you, Hana,” you manage to say with a slight croak to your voice because you were fighting back tears.

She smiles at you. “Take care, okay? And see ya tomorroooowwwwww,” she coos at you, coming up to you to give you a small hug, a squeeze of your upper arm, and then she heads back towards the direction of the hospice.

You watch her walk away until you can’t see her anymore. And then you head towards your car.

When you arrive at your neighborhood, you park in front of Gojo’s house. You have a feeling that you won’t be able to bear the vast emptiness of your home now that your mother is elsewhere, and so you drag your feet up the stone stairs of his house with a heavy heart instead.

The spare key that he gave you weakly pushes into the keyhole with about as much force as your fingers can manage, and you realize they almost feel atrophied.

The house is dark when you step inside, spare for the ambient street lights shining through cracked open blinds on the windows, and the curtains rustle gently from the draft of the AC, a chill that reaches you too by the time you make it to the staircase.

It doesn’t seem like Gojo’s home. A glance at the clock tells you it’s close to 8pm. You briefly consider texting him to ask where he’s at, why he’s out so late, when he’ll be home, and what’s for dinner, but you can’t even bring yourself to pull your phone out of your coat pocket.

Weak legs manage to take you upstairs and you’re about to pass through to your room when the slightly open door to the master bedroom taunts you, like a peephole into some other wordly dimension. Like the wardrobe in the chronicles of Narnia. A portal into your fake husband’s life.

With a palm pushing on the door, you slowly crack it open, and you know the anxious voices in your head are getting worse by the day when the creaking of the door hinges sounds like a lullaby to you.

Was this an invasion of privacy? And did you really care if it was?

The room is big, with a king sized bed off to the left, sheets neatly made and duvet primly tucked under, like the way hotel beds are set up. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment when you remember you haven’t been making your bed in the mornings for the past couple days you’ve been living here so far, and you wonder if Gojo would judge you for something like that. If he’d think you were a messy or undisciplined person. If he would think less of you.

Truthfully, in a lot of ways, you still felt like a child. You barely weathered a lot of your formative adolescent years when dealing with your parents’ divorce, and you’ve had to put so much of your life on pause to take care of your mom ever since she got diagnosed. So here you were, in the body of a 29-year-old woman, yet still feeling so painfully juvenile. One that forgets to make her bed in the mornings, and on most nights can’t seem to stomach anything other than cereal for dinner. It was like you were still at a party that everyone else had left, except all it ever was is hell. Your life was such a stark contrast to the lives of other adults you’ve come across. The ones that wake up at six to go on runs, the ones that have paid off mortgages with five figures in their retirement accounts, oh god, the ones that meal prep, and the ones that, all things considered, have their lives together. The ones that don’t spend at least an hour of every day, in fetal position on their bed, sobbing until tears soak through the sheets of the pillow down to the feathers like bone, because you’re so overwhelmed with stress and preparing yourself for the grief of losing your mother which you know that, no matter how hard you try to save her from, will inevitably one day come.

You used to cook dinner every night, make your bed every morning, and go to pilates on the weekends. Back when you were a little younger and healed and excited to live life. But now, you barely get by. Your priorities are with your mother. You can’t remember the last time you did anything nice for yourself, including something as simple as the luxury of getting to come home to a clean house because you hardly ever had time to clean it, not with all the doctor’s appointments you were driving your mother to, not with all the extra shifts you were picking up at the hospital to pay off your debt, not with all the times you felt too depressed to even get out of bed.

But your mother is in hospice now, so you’ve made time, right? You’ve made the decision that everyone in your life has been begging you to finally do. So why do you still feel so empty inside?

By a quick survey of the room, you notice Gojo doesn’t really have many framed photos hung up on the walls or perched up on surfaces. None, actually. Only a contemporary painting above his bed frame and then a faded vintage horror movie poster plastered up near his desk. Not terribly odd, since in your experience most men don’t really do the whole “cluttering the house with millions of photos of their family” thing until they at least have a couple of kids and some purebred dog. The thought of Gojo someday setting up a little portrait photo at his desk with his wife’s—his eventual real forever wife’s, pretty face in it, posing with their two beautiful kids, makes an oddly melancholic feeling waft through you. You wonder if he would keep a two-by-two in his wallet, too.

Your feet move one in front of the other as your finger traces the surface wood of a dresser cabinet, something that looks a little vintage and oaky, in stark contrast to the modern minimalist vibe Gojo has set up in the rest of the room. A family heirloom, maybe? There’s no dust that coats your finger, which surprises you. If you were to run your finger across your dresser at home you’d have collected enough dust to snort down your windpipes like a recreational drug. But Gojo’s a real estate agent, making a living off of dressing houses up in perfect cosplay so that monetarily stable middle class families feel inclined to buy them. So you’re not exactly surprised he’s invested in keeping his own house in pristine condition too.

There is a little bit of chaos, though. Like the shirt he has haphazardly hung over his chair at his office space over to the right. There’s a coffee mug sitting there too, porcelain and reflecting the moon light off, but upon peering inside you see that it’s half empty with stale coffee. He’s got pens sprawled across the desk, in a fashion that suggests he accidentally knocked them over in a rush, and slowly, like some grounding exercise, you place them one by one back into the paper mache pencil holder. It briefly occurs to you that he has a lot of paper mache containers of sorts around the house. You lift up the pencil cup, turning it in your hand until your eyes catch something written on it with glittery pink gel pen.

i luv u unkle toru! -yur BEST FREND 4EVUR juno!!! :D

A small smile makes it onto your face. The handwriting was messy, more like scratches than smooth lines, and nothing less than what you would expect of a child. You remember making paper mache and clay trinkets at preschool for your mom and dad when you were younger. And you’re sure if you were brave enough to open the box of memorabilia that sits in your attic some day, you’d see your own scratchy scribbled handwriting on them. An innocence that is long gone and buried, never again to be delicately placed on desks or counters for all the living.

The draft from the AC reaches you once again, brushing over your skin and causing a chill to shiver down your spine. It kicks at the curtains as well, causing them to ruffle up towards you, baring the dark outside world into the streets. And you notice in that momentary glance that there’s a roof just outside the window that overlooks the backyard. A roof? Spotted by a depressed woman going through a quarter life crisis? There was nothing more tempting than that.

The window was easy to open, which only caused unease over the revelation of how easy it would be for someone to rob this house. You make a mental note to tell Gojo to get a ring camera or security system of some sort since he doesn’t seem to have one, but you can already picture him telling you something about how statistically low the crime rates are in this neighborhood compared to all the other neighborhoods, and then you’d tell him that it’s just for your peace of mind. But whether he’d compromise or not after that, you’re really not sure.

You take a seat on the roof, a little scared as you sit because of the slight slope, but it’s comfortable once you’re settled. You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, staring out into the neighborhood of perfectly lined up suburban houses. You’ve got a better view into some neighbors' backyards, noticing that a couple of them had pools while some of them have big gardens. There's a cat resting up on a fence in the distance. A car drives by with headlights illuminating everything in its proximity briefly before zooming off. You glance up at the sky, and notice the full moon, but it’s too cloudy to see any stars. Or perhaps it was just the light pollution from the lamps making it difficult to see.

On instinct, your hand reaches inside your coat pocket for your phone, but your knuckles hit something else instead. A moment of brief confusion flickers through your head, but then you immediately recall the last-minute purchase you made at the gas station.

Your hand pulls out the object, and then you stare down at it. Squinting your eyes a little, because it’s a sight that feels familiar but also one you haven’t seen in so long: a pack of twenty Marlboro red cigarettes.

You’ve tried a lot of things to manage your stress over the years. Excessively working out, eating a lot of sugar, going on six hour hikes to touch grass, flirting with random men at bars, fucking Choso until he was rendered speechless, multiple types of antidepressants, you almost tried smoking weed once with your roommate in college but you wimped out last second. But the habit that had gotten you through the years of 21 to 24 is held loosely in your hand right now. It’s been five years since you quit, but resolve was often a fickle thing. As the saying goes, once an addict, always an addict.

There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you slowly peel the plastic off of the back, but then it all comes back to you like a reflex you’ll never forget up to where you slide a cigar up out and then pinch it between your two fingers. Forgetting to buy a lighter with the cigarettes is definitely something you would do, but because you remembered it was something that you would do, you remembered not to do it. The flick of the flame coming to life is ASMR you didn’t know you were painfully nostalgic for, and you balance the cigarette between your lips in that sort of movie-star way people used to obsess over back in the day. But just as you bring the lighter up to the end of the cigarette, and just before you can light it—

A hand shoots out in your periphery, grabbing your wrist and entirely stalling the movement.

You gasp, lips parting enough for the cigarette to fall from them and into your lap. The hand wrapped around your wrist is large and masculine, and you briefly consider screaming, but when you snap your neck to look at the perpetrator, you see Gojo crouched down next to you on this roof. You notice he’s wearing a black suit, a tie that was loosely secure hanging from his neck into the space between his spread thighs as he’s crouched, and whatever gel he had in his hair from earlier only barely remains as strands fall over his forehead haphazardly. He looks like he’s on the other end of a long work day.

You blink at him, expression plastered with surprise, but his is only earnest. With breathtaking blue eyes that you realize he could easily use to surrender a person just by looking at them, like the way he’s looking at you right now. His lips are pressed together into a firm line, as if to suppress some emotion, but the slight crease to his brow makes you feel like you’re in trouble somehow. Like he was silently scolding you for something.

“I—” you stutter.

He lets go of your wrist and discreetly pulls the lighter out of your hand. And then his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes you were balancing on your knee, but on some reflex that you don’t even think about, you try to snatch them away from him, and now you’re both tugging at the same pack of cigarettes.

“y/n,” he says, “let go.”

“No,” you say stubbornly.

He sighs and tugs a little harder. “Give them to me.”

“But—” you stammer, voice becoming softer to see if that’d work on him, “I’m…” Your grip on them tightens. “I’m stressed.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, then finally loses his patience and snatches them right out of your hand. He stands up from his crouched down position to toss the pack off to the side onto the roof somewhere. You’re surprised when he lets out a sigh and sits down next to you on the roof, as if he felt the obligation to. His legs stretch out in front of him, but still bent slightly at the knees, and he leans backwards with his body weight braced on his palms laid flat on wood paneling behind him. “There are better ways to relieve stress,” he tells you candidly.

“Like what?” you ask, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you clarify, “and don’t say sex.”

He shuts his mouth and his eyes flit up to the sky for a brief second. “Damn. I didn’t have a back-up answer.”

You roll your eyes, releasing a deep breath, then draw your knees to your chest before resting your chin on top of them.

“I didn’t know you smoke,” he says after a century-long minute.

You wince a little, because you were half hoping he was going to just drop the subject all together.

You bite your lip nervously and hug your knees to your chest tighter as if to hide yourself from him. “I don’t. Well, I haven’t. Um, not for a while.”

“Huh. I see,” he says.

Another silence passes, and as he shuffles next to you, the fabric of his suit brushes against the fabric of your coat, and you’ve become entirely too aware of the feeling.

“So,” he says, breaking the awkward silence, “your mom’s in hospice now?”

You nod, enthusiastic enough to where you won’t look like you’re entirely depressed about it.

“That’s good,” he says, “no issues with the insurance?”

You shake your head. “They need you to sign some papers by the end of the week though,” you tell him. “We’ll have to go in person.”

He nods slowly to affirm he’ll make time for it. “I really hope things get better for your mom,” he says, voice soft as he stares off into neighbors homes like you had been doing ten minutes ago. You see the cat that was resting on the fence get up, do a big stretch, and start walking along the length of the fence. Your eyes briefly glance at Gojo, and you notice his gaze is tracing the cat’s path.

“My—” you start, hesitant all of a sudden by the vulnerability you already feel swelling within you, most definitely due to sitting with someone on a rooftop late at night, but you decide that you’ll be nice to him for once, “…my mom seems to remember you a lot. More than she remembers me.” You let out a small humoring laugh, as if that fact doesn’t completely destroy you. “She was blabbering to me again for the seventh time about how you apparently fixed our AC.” You try to bite your tongue, but can’t help it when you say, “although I’m pretty sure you just pressed a bunch of buttons until it started working again.”

“Yup. That’s exactly what I did.”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

Another awkward silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say.

“Sure.” His voice sounds deeper, like he’s sleepy.

“Why did you agree to marry me? That’s not something people just do out of nowhere.”

He glances over at you, and you flicker your eyes to him. “Why? Having regrets?” he teases, with a slight nudge of his elbow to your side.

“Just answer me.”

He lifts his palms up from behind him and leans forward, placing his hands on his knees instead. “I don’t know. If something I could do would help someone out that much, I wasn’t going to say no.”

You hum quietly, still confused by his intentions. But you’re too jaded to question them.

“It costs nothing to be nice,” he adds.

You run soothing circles over your thigh through the fabric of your jeans. For some reason, your mind wanders to Choso. Thinking of all the years you wasted staying with him even though you knew his affections were long gone, just because you didn’t want to break his heart. Only to realize that you never had that privilege in the first place.

“I think,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you draw your knees closer to your chest, “that sometimes it does.”

A gust of autumn wind breezes by, ruffling the trees that the two of you are at eye-level with at the moment. You're pretty sure you’ve completely lost Gojo’s interest at this point, where he’s finally too tired to deal with your oddly cryptic attitudes and overall generally displeasing vibe, assuming this based solely on his prolonged silence beside you. You’re ready for him to get up and abandon you here on this roof, left to ponder every single thing you’ve done wrong in your life. It was any second now.

“Sometimes,” he instead speaks up, and it’s so surprising to you that you jolt a little bit, “you can do everything right, and people will still find a way to fuck you over. But I don’t think that’s any reason to stop being nice to others.”

You glance over at him, your eyes widening slightly, but he just continues to peer off straight into the night. His blinks are slow, lingering on being closed for a moment before he opens them again, and you’re mesmerized by the sight. The skin under his eyes is slightly dark from exhaustion, heavy with character that makes you aware that he’s just a person too. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, you realize that he’s—…handsome. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, your heart flutters in your chest.

He scoffs suddenly and dusts his hands off. “I sound like a fucking youth pastor.” He lets out an exhale before suddenly standing up onto his feet before you can think more on it. He looks off into the night again and lets out another exhale that sounds more like a sigh this time. “God, it’s getting a lot colder these days. Might have to start running the heater.”

You blink up at him with no commentary to add.

He looks down at you. His face is relaxed, but you can tell those eyes are distracted. A shimmering blue ocean in its own world while he attempts to stay present in this one.

He holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it blankly like you’ve got no clue what he intends for you to do with it. But you finally take the hint and curl your hand around his palm so that he can pull you up onto your feet too.

You stumble a little, falling forward from the sudden blood flow to your brain, but he holds you steady by the strong grip of his hands on your elbows. He’s close to you, close enough to where you can smell the faint lingering scent of his cologne. Something different than that expensive one he wore to the courthouse, but it’s comforting somehow. A fragrance that’s more him. And you feel nervous as you look up at him underneath pale moonlight.

He lets go of your elbows. You feel cold from the loss of his touch. But his right hand moves to gently hold your left hand in his palm, holding it curled as his thumb barely grazes the stone you wear on your ring finger; the one he gave you.

The way his thumb prods at the silver band is like he’s inspecting its quality, as if it has to pass some test to be worthy of sitting on your finger. Or maybe just any finger, if you were to quell the delusion. You’re not sure if he’s satisfied with his inspection.

“Where did you get it—” you blurt out.

His gaze flickers up to your face briefly before he’s back to examining the ring. “It was my mom’s.”

Your mouth gapes slightly in shock, heart dropping a little in your chest, and all of a sudden you feel guilty. Guilty that he put his mother’s ring on your finger for something that was fake, something that was essentially a business deal, something exchanged to you out of fraud when it was a precious family heirloom that should be exchanged with love. And maybe he didn’t care about it much, some people don’t care about the sentiments of objects. But your mind thinks of the oaky vintage dresser in his room, so out of place in the aesthetic of its surroundings, a decision you can only imagine him of all people, mr. “everything in this house has to look like an IKEA catalog”, would do if the dresser held some importance to him that was more than meets the eye. And so you’re compelled to think that maybe this ring did, too.

“Why would you give me this?! You could’ve just gotten a cheap fake diamond ring from a pawn shop and called it a day,” you ask him, suddenly feeling burdened by it.

“Well I wasn’t exactly given much time to think of other options.”

“But—” you start, only to realize you have no counter arguments for that.

He lets out a huh noise, like the sound someone makes when they’re pleasantly surprised by something, as he looks down at your hand that he still held in his. “It’s kinda crazy that it fits you perfectly. I wasn’t sure.”

Your mind wanders to when he slipped the ring onto your finger in the courtroom, followed by the kiss. Soft, sweet, the lingering warm sensation of his palm on your cheek as he cupped your face, the same way those heartthrob actors do in all those romance movies and kdramas that you watch on Friday nights while snuggled up in a blanket, wondering when anyone will ever kiss you like that. You remember the ghost sensation of his hand hovering over the small of your back, fingers lightly grazing the nape of your neck, his frame blocking out everything around you as he kissed you, just to pull away and for the two of you to then pretend like it never happened, as if it wasn’t one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever known.

You slowly pull your hand out of his, the moment feeling too tender for your liking, and you clear your throat before flitting your eyes up to his.

“Rule #1,” you remind him with a soft whisper, “no touching.”

You purse your lips, watching his round eyes blink once, then twice, before he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. He rocks back and forth on his heels for a few seconds, nodding slowly in submission, and then he turns on them to head back to the house. You’re standing a little stunned from the abrupt ending to this trance of a moment on the roof, and you’re also a little surprised with how your chest is heaving a little bit with fast breaths, but you eventually snap out of it to follow him inside too.

You two make it back inside the house, with little words exchanged. You pretend to not notice the way Gojo tilts his head at his desk, like he’s confused about why it looks tidier than when he left it. You’re prepared to feign innocence or ignorance, but he doesn’t press you about it.

“Y’know,” he says from behind you, his chest briefly brushing against the back of your head as he pushes the bedroom door in front of you open so that you can head out into the loft, “those oversized 1800s-esque nightgowns you’ve been wearing around the house kinda make you look like a less-hot version of Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sign right here for me, sir.”

You watch as the nurse slides the papers across the high-raised counter of the hospice nursing desk towards Gojo, his eyebrows narrowing as his eyes skim the words on the paper and land at the highlighted lines where he’s been intended to sign. You feel nervous for some reason, as if he’d suddenly find something disagreeable and refuse to sign, then take you to the courthouse first thing to finalize a divorce and send you off to prison while claiming he was blackmailed into the whole marriage in the first place.

Instead, he pulls a pen from the chest pocket of his suit jacket, clicking the end of it and scribbling his signature onto the paper with some jet black ink that looks like it takes a second to dry. How pretentious of him. The pink pom-pom pen was right there.

The nurse behind the counter continues to chat with him about something, blah blah dependents, blah blah tax claims, blah blah you’ll receive an itemized bill in the mail. You’re trying your best to eavesdrop in on the conversation, but most of your senses are being occupied by examining all your surroundings. When you dropped your mother off at the hospice, your feelings were at the forefront of conscience, but now that you’ve had a couple days to come down from that overwhelming emotional high, you’re here to scope out the quality of this place you’ve just dumped your mom at.

The facility is clean and sleek, with a color theme of red and an ocean blue across the signs, the furniture, even with the paperwork they hand out. All the workers had color-coded scrubs based on their occupation or specialty, and none of them had stains on the fabric. You take a glance down at the modest leather pumps you were wearing past the creases of the long skirt, and notice that the floor was shimmering off their reflection in a perfect polish. It wasn’t bad, this place.

“Thanks, you too,” you hear Gojo say to the nurse behind the counter. He has a professional smile on his face, but still kind and genuine, which makes the woman at the computer something bashful and unable to make eye contact. He folds something that looks like a receipt into his chest pocket before tucking his pen back in there too and then turns to face you. You make a mental note to pay him back for whatever he just paid for, at least once you move some money around.

Your eyebrows lift, feeling a little dazed as you blink at him blankly.

“Alright,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, the sound of his shoes on the polished hospital floors satisfactorily tapping in your ears as he took a couple steps towards you, “where’s your mom’s room?”

“Huh?”

“What’s her room number?” he asks you.

“Y-You wanna go see her??”

“Of course I want to,” he says, “she’s my mother-in-law.”

You roll your eyes and pet the fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles out. “You’re getting a little too invested in this role of fake husband.”

“I get to annoy you all day and ride the adrenaline rush of committing a federal crime,” he says, “of fucking course I’d get invested.”

You sigh, tossing some of your hair to behind your shoulder before glancing up at the signs, squinting slightly to locate the ward where your mother’s room is, before you hear an extremely high-pitched and somewhat catty feminine voice call out from behind you. You glance at Gojo’s face as he peers off to whoever’s behind you, and you see him visibly stiffen a little.

“Is that Dayton county’s sexiest realtooorrr???” the voice purrs, and you turn on your heel to see a blonde bombshell of a woman clacking her kitten heels down the glistening floors of the hospice, with another brunette bombshell just a few paces behind her. Bombshell #2 sighs something like “it issss” before they walk right up to your fake husband and take turns at giving him a playful squeeze of his bicep. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping at the sight.

“Wow! Ladies, so–...so great to see you two,” he says out of polite obligation, and you immediately clock the fact that he doesn’t address them by name.

Bombshell #1 turns to look at you, all of her hair moving as one solid entity with the motion from all the hair spray that’s probably holding it up, and she points at you with a long slender finger that narrows into a french-tip. “Oh who’s this?? Another one of your clients??”

“Oh, no, she’s my–”

“I’m his wife,” you interrupt him, irritated for some reason.

Both the women chirp something out like oh! before their faces twist with confusion.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Bombshell #2 says in a thick New Jersey accent.

Gojo lifts his left hand up, the silver band on his hand glimmering under fluorescent hospice lighting. “Very happily,” he says, as if someone was holding a gun to his head.

Bombshell #1 crosses her arms, and you try not to stare at how nice her boobs look in the low scoop-neck jaguar print top she was wearing. You were no better than a man. And now you’re pissed off at the idea of Gojo glancing down too, but a flick of your gaze up to his face tells you he’s safe. For now.

“You weren’t married when I asked you if you were a month ago,” Bombshell #1 sneers at him. It’s true, the math wouldn’t make sense, but in his defense, this marriage was a fraud.

“Or when you took me out for dinner last week after I bought my house,” Bombshell #2 snarls with an undertone of hurt.

Gojo clears his throat beside you before pointing at Bombshell #2. “How is that, by the way?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject, “the half acre down on Maple Ave, right? You, uh, enjoying the pool?”

The woman let out an offended scoff and–were her eyes sheening with tears?? She puts her hands on her hips. “No. Mine is the three bedroom house with the cedar gazebo on 14th street.”

Her friend next to her rolls her eyes and smacks her gum between her cheek. “I’m the one that bought the half acre down on Maple Ave, jerk. Ugh!” She grabs her friend’s arm with a high-pitched hmph noise leaving her throat, and you can hear the other one sniffling subtly as she wobbles on her heels with her friend’s pull of her arm.

Right before leaving the two of you alone, Bombshell #1 turns to you and says, “I hope you find someone who treats you better,” and then they storm off together down the hallway, their perfectly blow-dried hair bouncing in sync with each stomp.

You blink at the sight, a little flabbergasted from the interaction, and then flit your faze up to Gojo. You see him awkwardly scratching at the back of his head with a grimace on his stupidly handsome face.

“That’s what you get for being a manwhore,” you tell him.

“I’m not a manwhor–”

“You went on a date with another woman while you were maaaaarrrieeeddd?!” you coo as you let out a fake gasp and slap your cheeks with your hands, “despicable, really.”

He lets out some disgruntled noise, the source coming from deep within his throat. “No. We weren’t fake-married yet,” he vindicates himself, “and it wasn’t a date. I just bought her dinner as a congrats for buying a house. Not a big deal. I do it for all my clients.”

“Satoru. You do realize you’re leading these women on, right? I mean, I’ve seen the way you talk to them. Even if you think you’re just being friendly, please know that your definition of friendly is most people’s definition of flirting.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

He raises an eyebrow as he glances down at you. “Alright, how come this flirting in disguise of friendliness hasn’t worked on you then?”

You scoff in disbelief before crossing your arms. Maybe you did deserve a better fake husband. “You’re never friendly with me. You’re always rude to me.”

“What? I’m not always rude to you.”

“Well, you’re certainly much more rude to me than you are to other women,” you say, tapping the tip of your shoe with irritation.

“Can we not do this right now? We’re in the middle of a hospice.”

“God, you’re such a cop-out,” you mumble as you forcefully push past him towards the hallway that’ll lead you to your mother. You can hear that Gojo’s on your tail, following you down one of the more dimly lit hallways, and you can tell he needs to stall the strides of his Daddy Longlegs to not overtake your pace.

“What the fuck is a cop-out?” he asks you from behind.

“Look it up on urban dictionary, Grandpa. Unless you don’t know what the Internet is, either,” you spat.

You waltz right up to your mother’s room just in time to see a nurse making her way out with a clipboard in her hands. She glances over to you when she sees you approaching in her periphery.

“Hi! How can I help you?” she asks.

“Is it alright if we visit my mother?” you ask her.

“Oh! Sure, let me just clean her bed pan really quick.”

Your brow furrows. “B-Bedpan?? Why is she using a bedpan??”

The nurse stops in her movements. “Well, yesterday and today, that’s just what she has decided to use.”

You immediately become hostile. “That’s not right. She never needed to use one at home. Why is she suddenly using one here? Is that not a clear sign of deterioration? The restrooms must not be kept well enough here if she doesn’t want to use them.”

The nurse becomes something meek, her eyes widening as her mouth gapes slightly. “Ma’am,” she squeaks out, “we see this commonly with patients as they begin to adjust to hospice life. We’ll urge her to use the restroom, but as of right now, we need to prioritize what she finds most comfortable.”

Your expression softens, your shoulders relaxing from their tense position, and you duck your head a little with guilt. “Right…I’m sorry.”

The nurse presses her lips together with a well-meaning smile before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. You sigh and lean your back against the wall next to the number plate, cheeks flushing slightly from the confrontation. You have no idea how loud your voice was or who heard you. But you try to convince yourself that you’re just stressed and trying to look out for your mother, although the guilt still sits.

You glance up to see Gojo staring at you with slightly wide eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he tilts his head to study your expression.

“What?” you snap at him.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoru,” you cut his questioning off by raising a palm into the air, “just—…just stop.”

His brow furrows together slightly, but before he can show any further concern, the nurse exits the room and holds the door open for the two of you.

“All set!” she chirps, and Gojo moves to hold the door open in her stead, and then the nurse bolts down to disappear somewhere down the hallway.

You hear Gojo let out a small huff of a scoff as he stares down in the direction the nurse ran off in. “Glad to know I’m not the only one that’s scared of you.”

You roll your eyes and walk into the room through the open door.

Your mother lays in her bed, looking out the window with her hands resting on top of layers of white linen sheets, her skin looking slightly paler than usual. You approach her bedside slowly and she finally turns her head to look at you.

“Hi mom,” you gently greet her, sitting down on the stool beside her bed, “how are you doing?”

Her eyes dart across the features of your face, and you briefly glance towards the wall to the right where you see Gojo standing from a slight distance.

“Oh, hi dear,” she says with a smile, and relief washes over you.

You match her smile with your own. “Mom, I brought someone here to see you.” You glance over at Gojo, who starts to close distance now as he approaches the foot of the bed, “this is Satoru, my husband.”

Your mother’s eyes widen, “Oh! I know him,” she scoldingly swats a hand at you, like you’ve embarrassed her somehow by assuming that she doesn’t know who he is, “he’s my neighbor!”

You sigh, “yes mom, the one that fixed the A/C?” You attempt to finish her sentence for her.

She looks confused for a moment, but slightly nods as if to avoid any further confusion for herself. “But—…but, why…” she trails off and then looks at you, “I’m sorry, are you my nurse?”

Your shoulders drop slightly. “No, mom, it’s me. Your daughter. Do you remember?”

Her face scrunches before it entirely relaxes to keep some image of composure despite the haze you know she feels in her head. “Oh…yes, yes…my little girl. I remember you, of course!”

Your eyes become layered with a slight sheen of tears, “I’m glad.”

“Where’s your father?” she asks, “he said he’d bring me some…oh dear, what—…he said he’d bring me tea. I’ve been waiting.”

“Mom, dad is—” you pause for a moment to think on your feet. You could either tell the truth, or a little white lie. You never know what to do. And either one comes with either guilt or sorrow. “Well, he’ll be here soon, I just wanted to come see you.”

“Oh okay…” she trails off, her eyes squinting at you once more with that same look of confusion on it, but then they drift towards Gojo. “Oh you’re a very handsome young man! You look just like my neighbor.”

Your eyes flicker up to Gojo, and he walks up to your side by your mom’s bed. “Yes, Mrs. l/n, I am your neighbor.”

“With the lemon tree!”

“The avocado tree,” you correct her with a small sigh. “And he’s my husband mom. And also our neighbor.”

“Oh I see I see…” she says, looking up at him, and in a moment that shocks you, she holds her hand up for him to take.

There’s a slight moment of surprise on his face too, but he accepts her frail hand in his, and you glance over to your mom to see her look at him with some look of peace on her face.

“Oh, sit down here, won’t you?” she tells him, and you both blink at her in a moment of hesitation.

He pulls a stool up to the side of the bed right next to you and takes a seat down onto it. Your mother holds his hand with both of hers now, soothing her palm over the back of it before she taps on it lightly.

“Oh, my little girl is very sweet. She would bring me flowers from the garden when she was,” she glances at you, confused once more, “well I remember her when she was so little but she looks…a little older now. Ah, but she would bring me such pretty flowers.”

Your heart aches in your chest. You never knew what version of you your mother would remember. Some days, you’re still supposed to be an angsty teenager that shuts doors in her face, some days you were just as you are right now, and other days, you were just her little girl. And it confused her, the image of not seeing you in the way that she remembers. In the only way she knew how.

“You’ll take good care of my sweet girl, won’t you?” she asks him.

And it knocks the wind out of you.

It drops your heart to the center of the earth.

The thought that, after so many moments where she doesn’t remember you, she still knows that you’re someone she wants to keep safe.

Your mouth gapes slightly, tears welling in your eyes and you try your best to blink them away, but you see Gojo’s hand slip out from being held by your mother’s hands, to instead use both of his to hold hers. Your eyes snap to his face, and you see that same earnest expression you’ve been growing used to seeing these days.

“Yes,” he responds, eye contact level with hers, “I will.”

A small puff of air leaves your lips, a single tear streaming down your cheek and you quickly swipe your trembling fingers to remove any evidence of it before you huff out a shaky, “excuse me.” And then you’re standing up off the stool, and in a few hurried steps across the room as more tears continue to stream down your face, you make it to the door to push out into the suffocating air of the hallway.

It’s hard to breathe, huffs and puffs barely leaving your lips as you struggle to pull air into your lungs while you storm down the hallway at a fast pace, your heels clicking underneath you in a way that only sets you off further. Suddenly, all the sounds around you make you sick to your stomach, a wave of nausea washing over you, and your nose burns with the intensity of the tears that continue to stream down your face. A few hospice staff look at you with concerned expressions, and you eventually reach a heavy-duty door that leads you out into a secluded staircase hallway where the dim lighting serves to relax at least some of your senses, but you still feel like you’re about to pass out.

Even in the haze of your emotions, there’s this glimmer of a memory that comes to mind. One from when you were younger and you were pushed on the playground at school. You cried and cried and cried in your mother’s arms, but even then, you didn’t want her to baby you. You would say to her, I’m a big girl now! in that same way a child knows nothing of what it truly means to brave the world.

That little girl had no idea that one day, there would be moments where she wouldn’t be remembered as her mother’s little girl anymore.

No matter how old you grow, you will always be my little girl, your mother’s voice echoes to you, the feeling of her squeezing you in her arms as she holds your sobbing little form in hers casting a ghost sensation across your skin.

In a mother’s eyes, you’ll always be her baby.

And that’s why it hurts.

Because it’s all fake.

It’s phony.

It’s not real.

This arrangement you have with Gojo.

And if your mother were to die tomorrow, there would be no one to take care of her little girl anymore.

Not in the way she believes there will be.

Of all the white lies, this one pierces you straight through your heart in a way that leaves you gasping for air.

Amidst your whirlwind of thoughts, you hear the door push open harshly, and when you glance over, you see Gojo standing in this dimly lit hallway as he turns his head quickly to the left and sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, catching his breath as he lightly jogs up to you, “hey, hey, hey,” he repeats with more concern now when he sees the state you’re in, and he seamlessly pulls you into a hug, your cheek pressing against his chest that feels warm even through the fabric of his suit jacket and shirt, and that familiar scent of him completely engulfs you.

You sob quietly, wiping your snot on his tie and your tears on the felt fabric beside it, your hands balled into tiny fists at your chest, squeezed between the two of you. You feel him tuck your head under his chin and his arms wrap around you tighter. You don’t even realize it at first, but suddenly, it has become easier to breathe.

Then, you wail, and you cry, and you sob, because you don’t have the words to even explain how you feel, about not just this, but with everything, a buildup of everything that has been suffocating you in your life that just comes crashing down on you all at once.

“I know,” he says, his palm resting on the back of your head as he holds your face to his chest, his voice soothing in your ears while you sob until there’s nothing left to cry. “I know.”

You two stay like this for another minute or so as you come down from the cries, your remnant sniffling echoing in the hallway while you wipe more of your snot on his jacket. You make the first move to pull your face away from his chest, but he still keeps his arms wrapped around you when you look up at him.

With your gaze darting across his face, you take in the blue in his eyes. Eyes that are looking at you so softly it’s suddenly hard to breathe once more. And when those eyes flit to your lips, your mouth parts slightly as you two breathe in unison.

It’s possible that you could have dreamed the moment you saw him lean down slightly towards you, his eyes still set on your lips, but it didn’t matter because you’re pushing him away with strong fists before you can even register the thought in your head.

He lets go of you entirely, his eyes wide once more, and you glance down at your feet.

A tender moment, just like on the roof, broken just because you can’t handle that—…that way, that intense way that he looks at you. New rule, no looking at me longingly like you want to kiss me. I won’t allow it.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, still examining your shoes. And you suddenly feel embarrassed that he had to see you this way. He’s supposed to be scared and intimidated by you, not holding you in his arms while you cry.

He’s silent for a moment, but you can tell he’s searching for things to say. “You don’t want to say bye to your mom before we go?”

You swipe your palm against the wetness on your cheek. “No. I just want to go home.”

“y/n,” he tried to convince you.

You finally look up at him. “Please.”

He breathes in a few breaths as he studies the features of your face in a way that makes you feel so seen that it’s frightening. But he slowly nods, then says,

“Okay.”

[end of chapter 4]

a/n. hi friendsss i hope you enjoyed :'') yea like i said at the a/n in the beginning, this chapter is a slight off-tangent from last chapter, but ch5 will continue with a lot of the stuffs that were brought up in ch3. but yea i wanted to explore the whole process of emotions reader would go through putting her mom in hospice, since it kinda felt like a big thing, hence why it got its own chapter. aaa i hope to see you in the next one!! much love from me :''0

➸ take me to chapter five!

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andvys · 2 months ago

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The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter ten

⭐︎ Turn me into something tragic, just for you, I let it happen

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, insecurities, jealousy, mentions of past stancy, mentions of cheating, mentions of heartbreak and unrequited feelings. post apocalypse au, grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of the drinking game leaves you feeling angry and bitter, and the others confused when you greet everyone with a cold shoulder -- showing a side of you they didn't know you had.

Word count: 12.7k

Author's note: I'm back from vacation and I wrote this in like two days! This and the next chapter are ones I've been excited for the most to write! And me and @hellfire--cult can't wait for y'all to read this hehe. Roe helped a lot with this one, especially with all the dialogues! And also thank you for beta reading and fixing my dumb mistakes bby

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

For the first time in a while, you hate the way the sun shines into your face when you open your eyes this morning. You take deep breaths, glaring at the light. Your palm is pressed against the mattress beneath you. You know you should get up, but you don’t feel ready yet. Your head pounds a little, and your eyes feel sore.

You barely slept last night. Too many thoughts kept you awake, along with all the revelations you got.

For months, you had been traveling with them, and no one bothered to tell you of Steve and Nancy’s history. Of what they once were. Of how friendship wasn’t the only thing between them. And you know that maybe it shouldn’t matter, maybe it’s not that big of a deal, maybe it’s not even of importance anymore. He did say that it was only high school love, and high school was years ago. But it still rubs you the wrong way that they didn’t mention it once, especially Steve. He told you of what that girlfriend of his did to him, of how she hurt him, cheated on him, and dumped him to be with someone else. Why didn’t he tell you then that it was her?

Now you can’t help but feel anger and a sliver of resentment towards her for what she did to him. Even if it doesn’t matter to him now, it mattered to him then. Even if he doesn’t love her now, he loved her then, puppy love or not. She broke his heart. And it pains you to know that he suffered because of her.

Now they are friends, and he can act like nothing ever happened. How? You don’t understand.

Nancy’s confession led you to wake up with anger in your heart this morning.

You turn around and face the rest of the RV. It’s empty. Eddie and Nancy probably left to check out the nearby town, leaving Steve out there by himself.

You’re not sure if you are ready to face him after your conversation with him in the RV last night. After what he said to you.

Steve’s confession led you to wake up with sadness in your soul.

You wish you had known sooner.

You wish you had known sooner about them and about being a goddamn placeholder for the best friend he lost.

If you knew, maybe you could have saved yourself at least.

With a sigh, you push yourself up. You don’t hurry out of the RV this morning like usual, desperate for a cup of coffee – even if you are, you aren’t ready to look into his stupidly gorgeous eyes.

You take your time getting dressed and brushing your teeth in the tiny bathroom. This is a luxury you didn’t have when you traveled alone. You didn’t always have a bathroom. You sometimes traveled for days without finding a roof to sleep under. You brushed your teeth using a water bottle to rinse your mouth with. You washed your hair and your body in lakes. If you were lucky, you found houses with water tanks that allowed you to take showers… even if only cold ones, but you were just glad to be able to properly clean yourself.

You are content here, but you also can’t wait to get home and find comfort again. After last night, you want nothing more than a warm bath, the stew and homemade bread that your dad always makes, a big hug from your mom, and your brother’s stupid attempt to make you laugh.

You miss them. You miss them more than anything today.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you braid your hair. You hate how puffy your eyes look today and how those circles under them are darker than usual. You look so different from how you used to look before the world changed. The lack of food is seen on your body nowadays.

You reach for the hair tie around your wrist, not the lilac colored one he gave to you. Now you wonder why he gave it to you. You know it’s Robin’s. You had a hunch, and now you know.

A huff falls from your lips, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at yourself for getting your hopes up once more, let alone in a world like this. Of course, he had a reason to give you a chance, to like you. He wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t gotten something out of it… right? Why else did he change his mind about you so quickly after getting out of Hawkins? It wasn’t only guilt, it was something else too.

You put your jacket on and zip it up, and eye the yellow colored scarf on the couch. You want to leave it there so badly. The bitterness inside you is strong… though not strong enough for you to not put it on.

You don’t notice the way Steve’s eyes light up when you open the door and step outside into the cold. He is standing in the snow with one hand on his hip and a mug in his other hand. The smell of coffee and snow mixes together. The pot is still steaming, your mug is waiting for you on the small table you used for cooking last night.

“Good morning, Sunshine.” Steve smiles at you, eying the scarf around your neck.

“Morning.” You mumble, unable to even try and sound more cheerful.

Steve furrows his eyebrows, his smile fading a bit as he takes in the look on your face. The circles under your eyes, the sad but also… angry look on your face. It’s concerning to see you like this – the only time he saw that facial expression and heard that tone in your voice was when you all just hit the road, after he had snapped at you in front of Robin’s grave.

“For someone who didn’t drink, you sure do look hungover.” Steve attempts to make you chuckle, though all he gets is a half hearted smile. A weird feeling settles in his chest at that. “Coffee…?”

He searches for your eyes, for your smile. But you hide from him, looking down as you make your way down the stairs.

“Yeah.”

Steve nods and sets his mug down. He grabs your mug and pours the coffee in. He prepares it for you, how you like it – way too goddamn sweet. He stirs it so the sugar dissolves.

“Here,” he says, looking back up at you, stepping towards you to hand you the coffee.

You take it from his hands, forcing a smile onto your face as you glance at him. You try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat over the way he looks down at you, over the way he put three teaspoons of sugar into your coffee… just how you like it, over the way his touch feels when his fingers brush against yours.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you wrap both hands around the warm mug. You retreat and break eye contact, missing the way his face falls as worry takes over.

You sit down on the way too cold camping chair. You take a look around as you take a sip.

Steve picks up his mug again and makes his way to your side, not hesitating to pull his chair closer and sit down beside you. He turns to face you, not even hiding his stare.

You said four words. Only four words. You start rambling the moment you smell the coffee in the air. You are never this quiet. Never. You are just looking at the field ahead of you, drinking your coffee in silence.

“Sunshine, is everything okay?” He doesn’t hesitate to ask. “You’re not feeling sick again, are you?”

Guilt fills your chest at the worry in his voice. But warmth spreads through you as well, knowing that he noticed.

You shake your head and slowly turn to face him. “I’m okay, just tired… that’s all.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows. You were the first to go to sleep last night and the last to wake up this morning. After the conversation he had with you inside the RV, you got tired and went to sleep.

“But you slept for 8 hours,” he mumbles as he reaches over to you, placing his palm against your forehead to check if the fever came back, but your temperature feels fine.

You lean back, avoiding his touch. “I said I’m okay.” You grumble, taking him aback.

Steve’s eyes flash with hurt. His brows sinking lower. The pang in his chest surprises him too, making his stomach dropa little. Not good.

You make the mistake of looking at him, and you instantly tense up. Guilt settles inside of you. The hurt look in his eyes causes your tension to disappear. The urge to apologize grows inside you right away.

His doe eyes gaze into yours, his lips curling into a frown. His shoulders slump, and he retreats a little. In this moment right here, he resembles a goddamn puppy.

Steve Harrington looks like a puppy.

A sigh falls from your lips as you tilt your head to the side.

“I-I’m sorry… I just… didn't sleep that well and now I have a headache.” It’s not exactly a lie. You’re just not telling him the reason for it.

“Oh…” He frowns. “Do you need anything? Tylenol? Or do you want me to make you some breakfast? I can make oatmeal. We got cinnamon and brown sugar now.” He shrugs.

You shake your head, smiling a little. “No, I’m fine… I promise. Maybe later.”

Steve nods, but he doesn’t look convinced.

“The sun is up!” Eddie grins as he spots you next to Steve.

Your head snaps towards him. You were too distracted to hear his footsteps… or hers.

“Morning, Sweets.”

“Morning.”

Eddie notices the tone in your voice right away, the lack of a smile confusing him. He draws back in surprise, tilting his head at you.e’s about to open his mouth to ask if you’re okay, but Nancy beats him to it.

“Are you okay?” The brunette asks, concerned as she makes her way over to you.

You can’t help but feel tense. A sour taste appears on your tongue, not even the bittersweet coffee cannot kill that taste.

Steve notices the way you clench your jaw at the sound of her voice, the way your eyes flash with something he can’t read, something he’s never seen on you before. It surprises him.

Your lip twitches, curling into a plastered smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You mumble, and before any of them can ask or say anything else, you turn on your heel and make your way back into the RV, catching them all off guard when you slam the door, leaving them all confused and stunned.

They had never seen you in a bad mood. They had never seen you angry. You had never behaved that way before. They didn’t even know you had it in you.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, his eyes widen. He slowly turns to face Steve after staring at the door for a while. The former jock looks just as confused but also… he looks like a kicked and tossed aside puppy. His lips are curled into a pout, his hazel eyes etched with sadness.

Nancy turns around, nearly giving herself a whiplash by how fast she does it.

“What happened?” She frowns. “Did you say something to her?”

Steve frowns at the accusing tone in her voice. Eddie notices it right away.

“What? No! She just woke up, didn’t even say two sentences to me,” he mumbles as he looks down into his coffee cup. A bad feeling rises in his chest. A mixture of sadness and concern was flushing through him.

Was it something he said…? Was it something he did? Was it about last night? It can’t be right? You were fine when he went after you to talk, when he explained that he doesn’t feel for Nancy anymore. You were okay, you even shared your KitKat with him before you went to bed.

“Maybe she’s just… maybe she is just having a bad day,” Steve mumbles, hoping that it is that. “She’s allowed to have a bad day.” He grumbles, feeling protective. He’s had plenty of bad days, and you always gave him space, just like Nancy and Eddie had bad days, and you always respected that as well.

“So give her the space that she needs.” He tells them, before he sits down on the camping chair behind him, glaring at the snow on the ground.

You’re allowed to have a bad day. He repeats in his head and yet, he feels rejection coursing through him, not liking the coldness he received from you.

Though it turns out to be more than just a bad day.

If it were just that, you would keep to yourself, avoid everyone, and do your thing, but instead, you huff and puff at everything and everyone except for Eddie. Eddie seems to be the one spared by your cold shoulder, even when you grumble in response to his questions, you still talk to him.

And Steve feels offended by it, when he notices how you still talk to Eddie while you avoid him and behave weirdly towards him, he can’t help but feel a weird ache in his chest. It confuses him and it makes him feel sad.

He watches how you chat with Eddie when you wash dishes in the sink, and it leaves him with a bitter taste on his tongue because when he carried those dishes to you, you didn’t say a single word to him, not one word.

And it’s so unlike you. You always talk to him, you talk to him more than you do with Eddie or Nancy, which makes it so obvious that you have some kind of personal issue with him, and it slowly makes him experience an ache he hasn’t felt in so long. He feels anxious, but also… he feels something he didn’t even know he was still capable of feeling. And he doesn’t know what to think of it, he doesn’t know how to let the realization sink in, he is too scared of it.

And Eddie, despite being the one spared by your odd behaviour, notices everything. He sees the way you roll your eyes at everything that Nancy says, the way you clench your jaw and stare at her bitterly, resentment flashing in your eyes.

And Steve… Every time you look at him, your eyes flicker with hurt but also with anger and disbelief. One moment, you look like a kicked puppy around him; the next moment, you snap at him every time he offers a hand and tries to help you with whatever task you are doing.

In return, he always draws back in shock before his face flashes with sadness and rejection.

If this wasn’t so serious, if he didn’t look so hurt and you so angry, Eddie would have found it amusing, but this is all so unlike you. Even he can’t believe what he is seeing.

Nobody confronts you about it. Nancy goes out of your way after receiving one too many eyerolls from you. And Steve, he is scared to even ask, scared to touch the ticking time bomb.

But Eddie grows a little frustrated with you when the late afternoon rolls around and you are still being a snappy brat, acting completely out of character.

“I can do this myself. Thank you.” You snap at the brunette you are usually following around like a duckling follows its mother.

Steve huffs at you, unable to hide his frustration this time but before he can even respond to you, you grab the basket of dirty clothes that he just took from your hands and stomp away, making your way down to the lake to wash them.

“Sunshine!” Steve calls after you as he throws his hands up, watching you walk down the hill. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling loudly before he curses under his breath. “What is her problem…”

Eddie’s face flickers with sympathy.

Who would have thought that your cold shoulder would be this… cold?

He places his hand on his shoulder, giving him a tight lipped smile.

“I don’t know what I did…” Steve murmurs, not hiding the vulnerability on his face.

“You’re not the only one getting this treatment from her…” Eddie chuckles softly, shrugging. “I think she’s really just having a bad day.”

Steve shakes his head in return.

“No. It’s gotta be something…” Steve mumbles as he furrows his eyebrows, trying to remember if it was something he said or did. “At first I thought it was because of Nance and I… she didn’t know that we used to be together, but we talked about it before she went to sleep and she was fine…”

Eddie winces at that, just like he did the night before when he saw how you reacted to that revelation. He knows you like Steve. He isn’t blind. It’s written all over your face every time you look at him, but Steve is clueless about it, painfully so.

“Maybe it took some time to process that information…” Eddie shrugs.

“But why would she be mad at that…?” Steve frowns as he knits his eyebrows together strongly.

Eddie almost wants to laugh. Yeah, that former playboy has got to be the most clueless guy in history.

“Did you talk about something else with her…?” Eddie steers the topic away from his history with Nancy.

Steve purses his lips as he looks down into the snow that is melting due to the warm sun.

He shrugs as he brings his hand up to his hair again, running his fingers through it.

“We just… I talked to her about Robin, about how lonely I felt after she died… before she came along.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah… I don’t know, maybe she’s just… missing her family.”

Eddie nods. He slowly looks in the direction you have left. He now understands why you are acting this way.

“Hey, listen, I’m gonna go talk to her and you get started on dinner, alright?” Eddie says, looking at his friend intently. “Bet she’s gonna be even worse if she doesn’t eat.” He chuckles, trying to make him smile.

But Steve’s lip only twitches lightly.

“Yeah… Okay.” Steve nods, hoping that a talk with Eddie might lift your mood – although he can’t help but feel a little hurt and sour if he does get through to you.

Eddie pats his shoulder one more time before he walks away, following you to the lake.

He squints his eyes as the sun shines brightly into his face. The warmth of it feels nice for a change, though. He hopes that it will get warmer from now on. The urge to throw his winter jacket off and away feels strong.

Just like it does for you.

You aren’t even wearing yours anymore. You ditched it next to the basket of dirty laundry. At least the pastel yellow scarf is still around your neck, along with a sweater that looks way too big on you.

You are crouched before the lake, washing one of Steve’s t-shirts… angrily.

Eddie clears his throat as he approaches you, making you freeze for a second before you continue.

“Hey…” Eddie mumbles awkwardly as he stops beside you with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey.”

You don’t even look up at him. He can see that your jaw is clenched and that you are still huffing.

Eddie can sense the death glare he is about to get from you, and a part of him feels nervous, even though he sees you as no threat at all.

“Um… what’s going on?” He asks as he looks at the shirt you are washing in anger, the pink cleaning gloves shining brightly under the sun.

“With what?”

“You are acting angry.” Eddie retorts without missing a beat.

“I’m not angry.” You lie. You are angry. You are hurt. And through the haze, you cannot see the impact it left on the three so far.

"Yes, you are!” Eddie huffs as he crouches down beside you. “Did I– did we overstep with yesterday's game?” He asks, desperately wanting to know what had troubled you this much.

“No, Eddie.” You grumble as you stop your task for a moment and turn to look at him. The concern in his eyes makes guilt rush through you. “I just woke up in a bad mood. Can’t I be in a bad mood every once in a while?”

“I mean, yeah, you can,” he nods awkwardly. “It’s just weird to see… that’s all.”

“Well, get the fuck used to it because that’s how human bodies work.” You roll your eyes before you look back into the cold water.

Eddie clenches his jaw in annoyance. He feels a bit surprised by the attitude you continue to give him.

“Okay, enough of this.” He finally grows frustrated. “What the fuck happened when you and Steve went to sleep last night? Did he do something he shouldn’t?”

You freeze.

Growing flustered at the way he worded it, you can’t help but flush all over, which in return, leaves you feeling even angrier.

You get up with the shirt in your hand and turn to face him, frowning.

“No! He didn’t do anything! What does Steve have to do with anything?” You shrug at him.

Eddie stands up as well, taking a step closer to you.

“Because before going to bed you were completely fine, and today you are being a cunt!”

Your jaw falls slack, your eyes flashing with disbelief as you frown angrier than you did all day.

Eddie would have laughed at the expression on your face if this weren’t so serious.

“A cunt!?”

“Yeah! And I would like to know why!” He throws his hands up, growing frustrated with you. “I thought we were best friends, sweetheart! I thought we talk to each other when shit bothers you!”

A flash of guilt rushes through you, and your angry expression fades for a second. Your shoulders slump as your cheeks heat up.

The hurt is still there, burning stronger than before now. You look down into the grass that comes through the snow again. You take deep breaths and contemplate on how to open up, on how to say things without exposing too much, without exposing your feelings and the pain that you have felt since yesterday night.

It all boiled up and you woke up in anger this morning.

Steve and Nancy. Steve and Robin.

It all reminded you of all your failed friendships and your failed relationship. It reminded you of all the moments you have spent playing the placeholder without knowing it, of all the one sided love you have had in the past, platonic and romantic. You thought it would be different this time. You felt that it would be different this time.

But of course not, you were a fool once again.

Even with him, Eddie. He called you a best friend when it isn’t the truth, maybe it is to you, but not to him. Nancy is his best friend, of course she is. They have known each other longer. You came along months, years after they had gotten this close. So, you can’t even be mad or hurt.

But it makes you feel bad. You know if a choice had to be made for whatever reason, it would never be you. Not to him, not to anyone.

And it makes you feel worse to think of him. You thought that he could be the one, a best friend. You even ignored the part that wanted him as something more. You were happy to have him just like this. You were so lost in the delusion that you didn’t realize that you were nothing but a reminder of her, someone he could play pretend with.

Why else would he have risked his life for you?

He didn’t want to lose you because he would lose her a second time.

Tears build up in your eyes as it all comes through you once more. You don’t want him to see, and you don’t want to cry in front of him, so you keep your eyes on the ground.

“I just found out stuff that I think I should have known a while ago… I’ve been traveling with you for months, and I just now found out that Nancy was the girl that was with Steve…? That she was the girl who cheated on him?” You ask, swallowing the sour taste on your tongue.

It all clicks in his head.

“So… this is all because of jealousy?”

You snap your head up, glaring at him.

“Jealousy!?” You shriek, causing him to rub his ears as he winces in pain.

“No need for that screech, that fucking hurt–”

You throw the wet t-shirt at him, not giving him the time to react before it slams wetly against his chest and his chin, making him stumble back in surprise.

“What the–”

You turn on your heel, abandoning the laundry and him as you stomp away in anger, not giving him any time to react to your sudden outburst.

Eddie frowns in disgust as he looks at the wet shirt. He scrunches his face up, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks up.

“Where are you going!?”

You only flip him off in return after throwing those pink gloves on the ground, leaving him in shock yet again.

“Jesus Christ…” He mumbles, shaking his head.

He wants to go after you, but he knows that he will only make it worse. So, as Steve had told him before, he gives you space. Though he can’t help but feel concerned as you walk further away from him.

He looks up at the hill, preparing for the anger on Steve’s face when he comes back without you.

You need space. You need a moment to yourself, a moment to breathe. You needed to escape. Ever since you were a kid, every time you had gotten into a conflict or felt hurt because of something, you stormed away, escaping into the sunflower field behind your house or any flower field you could find in reach. It always calmed you down, it always gave you comfort, to be surrounded by nature, to be by yourself, even if just for a moment.

You found no flower field out here but you found a little clearing, a peaceful little place where you could find some alone time. But now that the anger you felt all day slowly began to fade, the guilt started slipping in for how you treated everyone – even if you are still hurt about absolutely everything.

You are picking at the lilac hair tie, frowning at it.

You will never be her.

And you will never be as special to him as she was to him.

You will never be anything more than a replacement.

And you are pretty sure that even as that, you are still easily replaceable, no matter how much you remind him of her.

Your eyes burn once again, and the feeling in your chest that had been suffocating you since last night becomes worse.

You hate to admit that this hurts you more than any of your past friendship breakups. These people, these three random people that you would have never run into if it wasn’t for the end of the world, have stolen your heart and creeped their way into it so quickly, becoming so important to you that you would do anything for them.

You wonder if they’d do the same… just for you and not because you remind them of anyone.

“Sunshine.”

His soft voice doesn’t even startle you, but you still flinch.

You can feel his eyes on you.

“I’ve looked for you everywhere.” He states.

You can hear the concern in his voice along with a hint of anger.

You take a deep breath before you tilt your head up to look at him. He is standing a few feet away from you. Worry and confusion are written all over his face. He is frowning at you, holding your jacket in his hand that you abandoned when you escaped from Eddie after throwing the wet shirt at him – you will have to apologize…

“Well, here I am.” You grumble, feeling bitter all over when you look into the hazel eyes you have come to adore so much.

Steve clenches his jaw at the tone in your voice. He looks down at you, how you sit against the tree, snapping the hair tie against your wrist. Your face is still tense, still bothered.

“Are you trying to get sick again?” He grumbles as he makes his way over to you, handing you the jacket.

He halts before your feet, his boots knocking against yours. You look up at him through your lashes. You breathe in, and he expects nothing less than another huff from you.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, nodding his jaw at your jacket, urging you to take it.

“I’m not cold–”

“Put the damn jacket on, Sunshine.” He demands, the frustration clear in his voice.

You push yourself up, patting the back of your legs to remove any dirt you might have sat on. Bitterness curses through your veins to feel him so close, to feel his eyes on you, to feel his anger.

“I think I can take care of myself, Steve.” You grumble in response as you grab the jacket from his hand and make your way past him.

Steve feels a pang in his chest. He hoped that you had calmed down, that you would talk to him now about whatever is bothering you, but you are clearly still not in the mood.

“Can you? Because you dropped everything and stomped away like a bratty child.” He mumbles in irritation.

You are not telling anyone what’s your problem and instead of talking about it, you threw a wet shirt at Eddie – which honestly made Steve feel a little satisfied, knowing that you got mad at him too.

You turn around to face him, frowning at his question. A mixture of emotions ripples through you, anger and hurt. That one word goes through your head like a broken record since last night, and it just got louder. Immature, immature, immature. That’s what he thinks of you. That’s what everyone thinks of you. And it bothers you, it hurts you but it especially hurts to know that this is how he feels about you.

You want to laugh for letting yourself fall for him, for thinking that he could see you as something other than this.

“Well, I don’t need anyone checking on me or looking after me,” you snap back as you point at your chest. “I wanted space, I wanted a fucking moment to myself but none of you respect me! I’m not a goddamn puppy and I’m not a child! I can handle my own – in case you don’t remember, I was on my own for a whole year!”

Steve draws back at your outburst. He lowers his head as guilt rushes through him. Though the guilt isn’t enough to mend the frustration in him.

He clenches his jaw, looking at you intensely as he places his hands on his hips.

“Don’t do that, Sunshine. We respect you, you know that.” He says through gritted teeth as your anger seems to infect him as well. “But clearly you don’t respect us.”

Your eyes widen, and your lips part.

“Excuse me?” You tilt your head to the side, challenging him.

He takes a step closer to you, not realizing just how much of your personal space he is invading and how his eyes flicker to your parted lips.

“You heard me.” He mumbles as he now towers over you. “If you respected us, you would have told us– you would have told me what’s bothering you. I thought we were friends, I thought you and I… could talk about anything to each other.”

‘You and I’. You hate the way your heart flutters at that, like it means anything to him, like it’s something.

He takes a step closer to you, his hands itching to reach out to you, to grab your hands, to hold them like he did before. Instead, he clenches his fists to hold himself back.

You gulp, swallowing the lump in your throat. You hesitate as you look into his eyes. The truth lies on the tip of your tongue, but you are too afraid to speak it out loud, to tell him how much it hurt you to find out about him and Nancy, about Robin.

“Nothing is bothering me, I’m just having a bad day.” You lie through gritted teeth.

He can see right through you. Your left eye twitches when you lie.

“Don’t lie to me,” Steve warns you, glaring into your eyes. “We both know that’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You clench your jaw, gripping your jacket tighter.

“Tell me the truth.” Steve demands, growing restless and impatient.

It’s not only his anger that shines through his eyes, it’s the desperation. And if you weren’t so blinded by your insecurities, you would see how much it kills him to receive this cold shoulder from you, you would see just how much he cares, that this is why he wants to know. Because he wants to fix it, because he wants to be there for you, to make it better.

“Or what?” You glare at him, anger and sadness mixing, resulting in an explosion. “You’re gonna call me an immature little girl again? Tell me that my family is dead?” You ask as tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t help but hate yourself for that, for wanting to cry when you want to look brave.

“Don’t do this now…” He begs as his eyes fill with guilt.

But you are not done.

“Tell me that I remind you of your best friend? That this was the only reason why you even gave me a chance…? Because you saw her in me? … And now I’m a placeholder to you and a joke to everyone else?”

Steve feels like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped over his head. His eyes widen, and he draws back, staring at you, bewildered. His heart drops to his stomach, his chest aching when he takes in the tears in your eyes and the hurt written across your face now that the anger was finally put into words.

The tension and the anger in him melting right off. His shoulders slump, and his eyes soften and fill with sadness. The guilt in him is worsening now. This is what you think? This is what you feel?

You were never that. There was not a single moment where he thought that about you, where he saw you as a replacement, where he thought of you as a placeholder to Robin. He didn’t realize how wrongly his words came across and the impact they left on you.

He knows of your past, of the failed friendships, of the shitty first boyfriend you had. How they all made you feel. How they only needed you when no one else was around, how you were the last choice without realizing it, how you kept playing the placeholder for everyone you saw as a close friend or even a best friend. He was so angry at all of them when you opened up to him, and now he led you to believe that he felt just the same as they did about you.

Steve watches the way a tear slips down your cheek, and he wants nothing more than to wipe it away and pull you into his arms, apologize for how much he hurt you with that wrong impression he left on you.

“Sunshine…” Steve whispers as his hazel eyes soften at the sight of your sadness.

Though you don’t give him the chance to explain himself. You don’t need him to lie to make you feel better, and you need no sympathy. You wipe your tears in anger and turn on your heel, walking away… again.

You can hear the frustrated sigh that falls from his lips as he says your name softly.

“Wait… please don’t do this,” he murmurs behind you as his footsteps echo. He follows you, contemplating reaching out to you, to grab your hand and pull you back to him, to make you listen, to put it through that thick head of yours that you are not a placeholder, that you could never be one, never.

“It’s okay, Steve. I get it now.” You mumble, your voice still filled with bitterness.

Frustration builds up in him again. You won’t listen, not so easily.

Steve rushes up to you, grasping your upper arm gently, he stops you and turns you back around, forcing you to face him again.

Your glassy eyes meet his, and you don’t hesitate to open your mouth again, but he beats you to it.

“Listen to me, Sunshine.”

But you don’t. You don’t listen to him. Your ears pick up a different sound, one that you can’t make out so well. You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head to the side. For a moment, all your troubled emotions flee away.

“You were never–” Steve pauses when he takes in the change of your expression, when he notices the concentration in your eyes.

“What is it…?” He frowns in concern as he begins to look around you both, realizing that he let his guard down, that he didn’t bother to look around and make sure that nothing was creeping up on the two of you.

“Do you hear that?” You whisper as you take in the struggling sound of someone, something.

Steve instantly reaches for the gun in his belt, but you stop him. You place your hand on his and shake your head at him.

“No… just listen…” You whisper as you blink your tears away.

He can’t look away from that, from the tears in your eyes and the pain he had caused without meaning to.

You furrow your brows deeper as you look around.

It sounds like a whine, a pained whimper coming from somewhere close. You turn towards it, hesitating for just a second before you move.

Steve can’t even react as you turn around and escape his touch. You start running, making your way towards those sounds, ready to jump straight into danger.

“Sunshine!” He whispers, not wasting a second to follow you as you further make your way into the forest. “You don’t know what’s out there, you can’t just–”

But you don’t listen. Of course you don’t. Instead, you pick up the pace, following the sound without hesitation. Moving past the trees and the bushes, making your way down the small hill that leads you to a small waterfall and a big stream that is moving fast.

You halt in your tracks as you look around, and when you find the source of the sound, your eyes widen.

Right there by the shore, there is a fallen tree lying in the water, broken branches sticking into every direction. You see the tiny paws holding onto it, the fur wet from the river. The tiny wolf cub is holding on for dear life, but the water is moving fast, too fast for a pup to save itself from it.

You don’t waste any time jumping into action, ignoring Steve’s calls as you make your way down to the river. You throw your jacket on the ground and lean down to take off your boots, undoing your laces quickly. You never take your eyes off the cub, scared that the stream will take it.

Steve halts in his tracks behind you after he catches up. He freezes when you throw your scarf and your sweatshirt off before your hands find their way to your belt, watching how you undress yourself before the water.

“I– what…” He mumbles in confusion, not even noticing the cub in the water. “What the hell are you doing, Sunshine!?”

“I’m not gonna let the cub die!” You cry out as you point at it.

“I–” Steve’s words get caught in his throat when he notices the struggling wolf pup. His heart breaks at the sight before him, and he instantly jumps forward as well, ready to get into that icy water.

The clinking of your belt brings his attention back to you. He stares in disbelief as you take your pants off, stripping down to your underwear.

“Whoa, wait!” He holds his hands up, ignoring the way his cheeks flush at your bare skin, at the lace covering your skin. “The water is cold! You are still coming down from your cold – sunshine!”

You stumble away before he can grab your arm and stop you. You dip your feet into the water, and you can’t help but wince at the coldness of it. Shivers rise up on your skin instantly, and you shudder strongly. You know this will hurt after. You know this might make you sick again, but you can’t bring yourself to think and worry about it now.

Steve’s stomach drops as he watches you get in the water. He brings his hands up to his hair, clutching it anxiously as he clenches his jaw.

You will be the death of him.

He makes his way down to the shore, ready to jump in after you in case something happens.

“I can’t believe you…” He mutters under his breath as he watches you anxiously.

“Hey,” you whisper to the cub with a shivering voice as you take another step into the water, grateful for the tree for slowing down the stream on this spot. You just hope that it won’t get too deep, not wanting to get into the coldness with your whole body.

The cub whimpers loudly which leads you to move faster, desperately wanting to save it.

“I’m coming,” you whisper as you take another step, now standing knee deep inside of it. Your whole body is trembling by now.

The water, this spot would’ve been a nice little place if it wasn’t so goddamn cold.

Steve’s concerned face winces when he sees just how much you are shivering already. He wants to scold you, to grab you and yell at you for being so stupid.

“Be careful.”

Your hands touch the water when the next step nearly envelopes you fully. A gasp falls from your lips when the water touches your stomach. You need to move fast, and you need to get out of here quickly. The cub is in reach now, and you don’t waste any more time, taking a tiny step closer, you reach out to it, wrapping your hands around it, you pull it towards you, cupping the tiny animal against your chest.

Steve watches intently as he takes his jacket off. A sigh of relief leaves his lips when you save the cub and start making your way out.

The ends of your hair are wet, water dripping down your bare back. Your skin is covered in goosebumps. You are freezing.

“I got you,” you whisper as you look down at it. Its paws cling to your bra straps, claws digging into your skin a little as it shivers and whimpers against you. “I got you… baby.”

Steve’s stressed figure stands by the shore, his face is etched with nothing but desperation. The second you are in reach, he grabs your waist and pulls you outside, unable to hide the angry frown on his face as he turns you around, forcing you to face him again.

Not even a minute in the water and your lips are purple and trembling. Your skin is ice cold.

“You are crazy, Sunshine.” He grumbles as he wraps his jacket around your shivering body. And then… he wraps his arms around your body, enveloping you with his arms completely, pulling you into his warm embrace. He places his chin on the top of your head, holding you tightly as he rubs your back, trying to warm you up. “Absolutely crazy.” He mumbles and closes his eyes.

You bury your face in his chest, melting into his touch with ease. You welcome his warmth and press yourself against him. The cub is between yours and his chest now, enveloped by warmth.

“Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?” He says as he holds you tighter.

You risked your life. You risked your life for an animal, knowing what it could lead to again. You are so good, too good for this world. And it fills him with fear because you jump into danger without thinking, not caring about yourself.

And despite the concern it leaves him with, his heart flutters and warms at your action. You are so selfless and loving.

You nod against him as your teeth clatter. You close your eyes and fall into him, embracing the warmth of his body.

“I got you,” Steve whispers into your hair as he tightens his hold on you. “I got you, Sunshine.”

You breathe heavily against him, taking deep breaths. You search for his warmth, pressing yourself tighter against him and in return he pulls you even closer.

“God… you’re so cold.” He whispers in concern as he continues to rub your arms and your back.

The pup between you is shivering just as much, but it’s whines get quieter as it curls into your chest.

“Can’t believe you did this.” Steve mumbles as he cups the back of your head.

“Couldn’t let this baby drown,” you whisper against him as you press your head against the spot over his heart, unknowingly making it flutter.

You don’t know how much time passes as you stand there in his embrace, but you find yourself wishing that you could stay like this forever. It feels nice to be in his arms, it feels safe and warm. Despite what happened before, you don’t want this moment to end.

You know that this is nothing to him, that this is just a way of warming you up just like that night you spent in the car before you got sick. But your heart ignores your mind.

But Steve, he doesn’t want to let you go. It feels nice, it feels right to hold you. His heart feels… alive. His skin is burning from where you’re touching him. Your scent, your touch, is driving him crazy. Your cold shoulder was driving him insane all day, making him sour yet sad. And now he suddenly feels calm. With you in his arms, he feels content, like there is nothing else in this world that he needs. Absolutely nothing.

It’s at this moment that he realizes that he is screwed.

His heart skips a beat when you lay your hand over it.

Yeah, totally screwed.

Your words from before echo in his head, filling him with dread and sadness, knowing how you felt all day, knowing why you behaved so coldly.

Steve opens his eyes and he looks down at you, bringing his hands to your face, he cups your cheeks as he whispers your name, “can you look at me for a second?”

You hesitate for a moment, standing still for a few seconds before you look up at him.

He nearly feels his knees buckle from the vulnerability in your eyes.

He briefly looks at the pup in your arms, watching the way it buries itself against you, feeling safe in your embrace. His heart warms at the sight.

He keeps holding your cheeks, his eyes returning to gaze into yours. He takes a deep breath as he looks at you intensely.

“Listen to me,” he whispers, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You were never ever a placeholder, you were never a replacement for Robin or anyone else for that matter.”

Your eyebrows furrow as your lips pucker, “but…”

Steve shakes his head at you, “I never meant it like that when I said that you remind me of her. I never saw her in you. You are not some sort of ghost of Robin, Honey.” He promises, telling you nothing but the truth. “Your rambling reminded me of hers, that’s why it was so hard for me to be around you at first. Robin would talk my ear off about the most random things, you did that too and I just thought ‘god… these two together would be the death of me’ cause I know that she would have loved you.”

“Oh…”

Steve can still see the insecurity flashing in your eyes, the way you struggle to believe him. And he so badly wants you to believe him, to trust him.

These days, he struggles to be vulnerable, to show feelings, to let them in… but if that’s what he’s gotta do in order for you to believe him, then he will let his guard down for a moment.

“But in no way were you ever a placeholder. I promise that I have never thought that of you. You are not Robin, and I don’t want you to be her. I like you, I like you for who you are. I like you for how you constantly hit me with the most random facts, for how you stay so hopeful and cheerful despite everything, for how kind you are despite this world, for jumping straight into ice cold water to save this cub.” His cheeks are flushed, and his stomach is filled with nerves. “And you’re not an immature little girl, Sunshine. You are probably the smartest, the strongest of us all. I admire you and for how this world hasn’t tainted you in the slightest.” He admits, feeling his heart race in his chest, and he also fuels it when he brings his hand higher up your face to brush away the stray hair that covers your eye.

Your breath hitches in your throat, your cheeks burn beneath his touch. You don’t even feel the cold anymore, not even the sadness nor the anger from before.

Your heart races strongly in your chest, filling with hope yet again. The rejection, the disappointment that flushed through you before, just vanishes with ease. The look in his eyes makes you feel engulfed in nothing but warmth. The tension in your whole body disappears.

Were you wrong after all?

Did you misunderstand everything he said?

Did the past really leave such an impact on you?

“Y-You… You admire me?” Out of all the questions you could ask, this is the only one you can come up with.

Steve’s lip twitches, curling into a small smile. His eyes soften as he continues to look into your eyes. He found his favorite color.

“Yeah, we all do.” Steve nods. “In case you haven’t noticed.”

You furrow your eyebrows, and you shake your head slightly. His hand never leaves your face.

“Oh…”

Steve’s heart aches a little at your question, at the vulnerability in your eyes, at the confusion because you don’t understand what could make you so admirable.

You want to ask why, but you don’t, not knowing if you can keep the tears away right now.

“I’m sorry for the way I worded things last night, for making you feel that way. I never meant to hurt you, and I never wanted you to feel like you’re some kind of replacement for my best friend. You are not and you never will be. She was special to me. You are too,” he admits, biting back his embarrassment as he gives you a glimpse of how he feels about you.

Your eyes widen at his confession, and your heart jumps in joy.

You know… You know that this could mean something else again, that it might not be what you want it to be. That he means it platonically. She was special, but she was a best friend, there was only platonic love, nothing more, it could be like that with you.

And yet, you want it to be more, you hope it to be more.

Your lips part as you stare at him, as you gaze into the eyes you are falling for with no way of stopping it. Your eyes flicker to his lips, making his breath hitch in his throat, making his heart flutter and his cheeks flush.

His eyes move from your own eyes to your lips, to the scar on your shoulder, and the softness of your neck. His hands itch to touch you more.

The air between you changes, tension building, but not like before. This is different, this makes you both feel hot but not from anger, no, from something else.

You are so beautiful, painfully so. He could look at you forever, and he’d only want to look at you more.

Steve leans closer without realizing. Your breath hits his lips, and suddenly he has to fight the urge to close the gap between you.

You blink as you gaze into his eyes. You stop breathing, the beating of your heart is so strong, you fear that he can feel it against his own chest.

The energy between you is burning, the yearning so deep, so strong. It would only take for you to close the gap between you to feel his lips on your own.

But you are afraid to make the first move, and he doesn’t make it either.

Steve wonders what could have been if he had met you sooner. If somehow he would have found his way to New York and run into you in one of your favorite coffee shops or bakeries. He would have noticed you right away, he would have wasted no time to make a move on you, to ask you out.

But he is not that guy anymore. He is not who he used to be.

“We should get back to the others.” He blurts out. “We gotta get you warmed up better.”

Disappointment floods through you, but you nod, holding back your sigh. “Yeah…” You murmur and look down at the cub who got comfortable in your embrace. “Hold it for me?”

“Yeah… Yeah of course.” Steve mumbles, clearing his throat as he avoids your eyes. He takes the cub from your hands, holding it gently as he brings it towards his chest. “Hey buddy.” He smiles at the furry baby, cupping the small head.

You smile as you watch him. Your heart melts at the sight of the cub curling against him.

You force your gaze away from him and turn to your clothes. You take his jacket off as you lean down to pick up your pants off the ground. You start to get dressed, unaware of the way his eyes find their way back to you.

Steve can’t look away from the lace covering your skin or the way your hair falls down your back. it's gotten so much longer in the past few months. Your skin looks so soft, his hands itching to touch it so badly. He knows it would feel so good, so right to hold you, to feel you against him, to feel your bare skin against his.

The whine coming from the cub in his arms pulls him out of his thoughts. He looks down, finding its dark eyes looking up at him. His cheeks flushed red when it dawns on him what he had just daydreamed about.

He clears his throat, cursing at himself inwardly.

“Okay…” You mumble as you turn back around, unfolding your scarf, you hold it against your chest. “Come here, I’ll wrap him… or her up.”

Steve hums, still looking down, not wanting to expose his blushing cheeks. He steps towards you and hands you the cub, helping you wrap the scarf around it.

“Hey, you’re fine, baby.” You giggle when it wiggles in your hands.

Steve’s heart flutters at that sound. He looks at you, his lips curling as he watches the way you pull the cub against your chest, cradling it the way you would a baby. Oh boy. Something else inside of him stirs.

“Come on…” You whisper to him. “Grab the jackets, please?”

“Why didn’t you put on your jacket?” He frowns, only now realizing that you’re only in your sweater. He huffs as he picks up both jackets, he puts yours under his left arm and throws his own around you.

“What—“

“I’m not cold right now.” And he likes the way it looks on you. He likes that your scent will stay on his jacket.

“Now let’s go,” he mumbles as he places his hand on your back. “We need to get you both to the fire.”

“Yeah…” You nod as you start walking. “Do you think the mother is around?”

Steve shrugs, looking around the forest surrounding the river.

“If she was, she would have been here by now… maybe something happened, maybe she’s dead.”

You frown at that, looking down sadly, “I hope not.”

“Yeah… c’mon.” He whispers, wrapping his arm around your shoulder — to give you warmth of course, for no other reason. His stomach flutters when you lean into him, no longer tense with anger or bitterness.

You walk in silence. The tension between you is gone and your anger has faded away, but you feel guilty for how you treated him.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” He looks down at you, noticing the troubled expression.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you…” You apologize without hesitating.

His heart warms at your apology, at the soft look in your eyes.

“It’s okay, Honey.”

The pet name makes you blush strongly. You like that he calls you that.

“I was mean…”

“I didn’t even know you had it in you,” Steve chuckles, patting your shoulder. “I can’t believe you threw a wet shirt at Eddie.”

You wince at that, but Steve’s eyes glint with amusement, and he seems to be satisfied with your action.

“You like that I did that, don’t you?”

He nods, smirking, “yeah, actually.”

You huff, but you can’t hold back your chuckle.

The rest of the way back to the RV is spent in comfortable silence. You pass by the lake to find the basket of clothes gone. Nancy must have finished your task.

The thought of her leaves you feeling guilty too. You’ve been horrible to her as well. And yet… a part of you still feels bitter to think of her, to know now that it was she who hurt Steve so much.

You avert your eyes from her when you make it back. Her concerned expression is directed at you.

“You’ve been away for so long!” Nancy says as she gets up from her camping chair. “Is everything okay?”

Eddie turns around to face you, looking away from the pot he is stirring soup in.

Steve nods at her, “yeah, we’re okay.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows when he notices the fur sticking out from behind the scarf you’re holding.

“What… What do you have there!?” He asks, rushing towards you. His eyes widen when he sees the cub. “Holy shit! Is that a… a wolf!?”

“What!?” Nancy gasps behind him.

“A wolf pup, yeah.” You nod as you caress its little head.

Steve’s eyes flicker back and forth between your face and the animal.

“She jumped into the water to save it…” Steve explains.

Eddie’s jaw drops, and he looks between you and the pup, impressed.

Nancy’s eyes widen, and she makes his way over to you, concern is written all over her face.

“Oh my god, are you crazy?” She exclaims, eying your body. She only now notices Steve’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders. “You just got better!”

“I’m fine, Nancy…” You murmur softly. “Steve… gave me his jacket.”

“But the water is freezing! You must still be cold!”

The worry in her voice makes you feel even worse, making the guilt much more intense.

“Come on, let’s sit by the fire!” She says as she wraps her arm around you, glancing at the pup who is looking around curiously. “Eddie cooked soup, I’ll get you a bowl in a sec.”

Eddie and Steve watch as Nancy takes care of you, wrapping a blanket around you before she fetches you a bowl of soup. You don’t look up at her once, keeping your head low and your eyes trained on the ground or at the pup in your arms.

“So… is she still throwing shirts around or…?” Eddie mutters, narrowing his eyes at Steve.

“No, we talked it out…”

“Oh?” Eddie raises his eyebrow, turning to face him, noticing the sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah…” Steve whispers, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll tell you more later but… she misunderstood some things I said. She was hurt.”

“Oh…” Eddie whispers, looking back at you. You certainly look more relaxed than you did before; your expression is soft, and there is a soft smile on your face as you pet the pup. “Shit…”

“Yeah…” Steve whispers, looking back at you as well. “I think she’s okay now…”

You cradle the pup against your chest and lean back, wrapping the blanket tighter around you both.

Both men watch you, smiles appearing on their faces. Eddie cannot help but blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Cute.”

Steve turns back to Eddie, his smile fading a bit. A weird pang spreading across his chest.

Eddie smirks, chuckling at the expression on his friend’s face.

“Don’t worry, she’s all yours.” Eddie grins, bumping his shoulder with his own. “Look at the way she is holding that pup. Bet you’re thinking about putting some babies into her—“

“Dude!” Steve frowns, slapping his shoulder.

The metalhead winces in pain, holding his shoulder, “What’s it with you lovebirds and hitting me today!?” He yells in a whisper, frowning.

“You deserved that!” Steve rolls his eyes as he makes his way to the RV.

Though Steve didn’t question before why you hit Eddie in the first place, what he said to you for you to even do that.

Did he tease you too?

Did he make some sexual comments?

Did he comment on your lack of experience?

Or did he tease you about him the way Eddie always teases him about you?

“Are we keeping the pup?” Eddie calls out before Steve makes his way inside. “Guys?”

Nancy feels your cold shoulder the most. While you talk to Steve and Eddie again, you still don’t even talk to her, only when you have to.

It’s making the pit grow in her stomach. She wonders what she said or did wrong for you to feel such sudden resentment towards her.

It’s been killing her all day, but even worse now that she witnessed you acting normal with the guys again.

You have become a close friend in these past few months, if not her best friend. She never had someone like that again, not after Barb.

She felt hope when she met Robin, hoping to find a best friend in her, but it turned into something more. It was so very different with her. She fell in love with her, slowly but very deeply. The love suffocated her because, for the longest time, she believed it was one-sided, that the other girl could never feel that way about her.

It turned out that she was wrong about it and that she had wasted too much time worrying.

She wishes she had talked to her sooner, wishing she could have had more time with her.

She won’t make these mistakes again, she won’t wait for the last moments.

So when dinner is over and the night rolls around, she asks Steve to give her a moment with you, so she can talk to you. She didn’t even question him, knowing that you’ve talked to him about whatever troubled you all day.

He agrees, not even hesitating to. He grabs all the dishes and forces Eddie to clean up with him in the RV, leaving her alone with you.

It’s quiet between you, only the crackle of the fire surrounds you both. The pup is sleeping in your lap, engulfed by your warmth and your scarf, along with the blanket she wrapped around you before.

Nancy takes a seat beside you, breathing in nervously.

“Hey…”

You stop caressing the pup, turning to face her slowly, you give her a tight lipped smile, “hey…”

“Why are you so mad at me…?” Nancy asks, throwing it out.

You tense at her question, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her.

“I’m not.”

The frustration that’s been building up all day boils over, and she huffs at you.

“Bullshit!”

A frown appears on your face. You tense up further. You know all about how that ex-girlfriend of his called him that, hurt him with that. You could have never guessed it was her.

“Is that the only word you know?” You snap, unable to hide your anger.

Nancy looks taken aback, and it’s more than evident. Her lips part, and her eyes flash with confusion.

“I— what…? I-I use it a lot but… what’s your problem?”

“My problem, Nancy? I’ve been traveling with you guys for months, months! And none of you bothered to tell me that you and Steve used to date. That you were the girl who cheated on him and dumped him!”

The shock is written all over her face, along with the shame. She knits her eyebrows together, slowly shaking her head.

“I-I… that was so long ago, and it was meaningless—“

“How can you say that about him?” You ask in disbelief, feeling the anger burning hotly once again.

The realization sinks in quickly. It never took her long to put two and two together.

“I… Am I getting the signals wrong, or does it sound like you like Steve…?” She asks, careful to be quiet so Steve doesn’t hear in case he is listening.

Your cheeks heat up, and you instantly avoid her eyes, giving yourself away.

“I don’t… I respect him, but it sounds like you don’t! I bet… I bet he didn’t deserve what you did to him and yet…”

She cuts you off, shaking her head at you.

“What happened between Steve and me in the past does not resemble who we are now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you of our history, but we both moved on from it a long time ago. It doesn’t matter in this present time anymore. I… We both didn’t think of telling you because it truly doesn’t matter anymore.” She says, looking at you intensely.

Her words fill you with relief. He already told you that he felt nothing for her anymore, but you didn’t know where her feelings stood, even with her confession about Robin.

“But why did you cheat on him…?” You ask, disappointed. “Why did you do that to him?”

She sighs, and her shoulders slump. She knows how awful it was, how wrong it was to do what she did.

“I… there is no excuse for what I did. We were on a rough patch together, and I… I found comfort in someone else. I fell for someone else…”

Jonathan. She told you about him before, you just never knew the start of their history.

“That’s so wrong Nancy!” You frown.

You know exactly what Steve felt like when she did that to him.

“I know it was!” Nancy throws her hands up. The sudden tears in her eyes take you aback.

“I know it fucking is! That’s why I was so afraid of telling Robin how I felt! Breaking up with Jonathan to immediately jump to someone else after I did the exact thing with Steve? I know about my reputation! And look at me now…” She whispers painfully as tears cascade down her cheeks. “I never told Robin that I loved her because I wanted to be sure, because I wanted to take time, because I didn’t want to move too fast the way I did with them… only for them both to be the wrong ones for me… I wanted to do right by her, and now it’s too late. And that is my biggest regret… more than anything else.”

All your anger gets replaced by sadness, by guilt, and pity. You can’t and you don’t want to imagine what she must feel like after losing someone like her.

Your own eyes well up with tears, and the urge to hug her, to hold her, and tell her that you’re sorry grows strong.

With the cub on your lap, you move closer to her, careful not to drop it. You pull her into your arms, pulling her into your embrace. Nancy reciprocates the hug right away, wrapping her arms around you tightly as she continues to cry.

You are a little surprised that she accepted the hug so quickly. She always came across as a little cold, someone who doesn’t seem fond of affection. But now you can’t help but wonder if you got her all wrong. And you also can’t help but wonder if this is the first time someone held her after Robin.

You stay like this for a while, giving her the chance to say more but even after that confession, you know she isn’t quite ready yet, to talk more about her.

“I’m so sorry, Nancy… I’m sorry about everything. I wish you could have told her, I wish you still had her.” You whisper, feeling the guilt consume you now. You close your eyes, holding her tighter as she melts against you. “I-I should have talked to you… I shouldn’t have just–”

“It’s fine,” she whispers, cutting you off. “You’re protective of Steve, so I get why you were so mad at me.”

“I shouldn’t have been… I just… I wish I had known about you and Steve before I got those stupid feelings for him.” You blurt out without meaning to.

Nancy draws back instantly, her blue eyes widen, and her jaw drops at your accidental confession.

“Wait…” She whispers, glancing over at the RV to make sure that it’s still just you and her. “Feelings…? Oh… Oh my god! You like Steve–”

You jump forward and cup your hand over her mouth, shushing her as you grow flustered.

You feel a sliver of regret for letting your mouth run, but another part of you feels relief, for letting them out, for having someone to talk about them now.

Your cheeks are burning, and your ears are too. Your heart starts pounding against your ribcage.

“Yes, I do…” You admit, blushing. “But… He doesn’t like girls like me…” Immature girls. He likes women. That’s what Nancy is. And even if he doesn’t feel anything for her anymore, he once did.

The moment that happened between you two earlier. The hope that lives inside of you doesn’t matter here. You are always hopeful about everything. It doesn’t mean that you will get what you want. You rarely do. You just can’t bring yourself to stop hoping, no matter how many times you fall face first.

“He likes girls like you…”

Nancy’s eyes soften at the vulnerability flashing across your features, at the way your shoulders slump in sadness, fearing that you have no chance with him.

But now she gets it even more, why you behaved the way you did. You were jealous and insecure, comparing yourself with her, leading you to let that monster out.

She can’t help but chuckle as she shakes her head at you. “No, he doesn’t.”

You roll your eyes at her.

She says your name softly as she reaches for your hands in your lap.

“He liked me in high school–”

“And after–”

“No, he didn’t.” Nancy shakes her head. “Trust me, he didn’t. We talked about it years ago, and we moved on from that as soon as we did. Now I can’t even imagine that we used to be together. It feels wrong to even think of that, and he feels the same. He truly feels the same.” She tries to put it through that thick head of yours. She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth again. “And that is gonna sound gross considering we used to date, but… You know what Steve feels like to me?”

You raise your eyebrows at her, tilting your head to the side.

She scrunches up her nose and her lips curl downwards in disgust, “he feels like a brother to me now, like an annoying older brother.”

“Oh…” You murmur, your facial expression matching her own. Pure Disgust. And though you can’t help but giggle.

“I know it’s disgusting,” Nancy chuckles as her eyes light up at the crinkle in your eyes. “But that’s how I feel. It’s how he feels too.” She shrugs, holding your hands tighter.

And it does calm you a little, but only a little.

“That… doesn’t mean that he likes me back, though. In fact… I don’t think that I stand a chance.”

“What makes you say that?” She frowns, watching how you look down again. “What if you do have a chance…?”

You roll your eyes again, keeping your eyes trained on the pup. “He once called me insufferable… and I’m also inexperienced. There is nothing that someone like him could want in me.”

“You think your inexperience makes you less attractive, less interesting or something?” Nancy mumbles in confusion, knitting her eyebrows at you.

You shrug.

“That’s… No.” She shakes her head, scoffing. “You are worrying too much about it… Besides, you should have seen the look on his face when you told us that you’re a virgin.”

Her words pique your interest. You haven’t really paid attention to him when you admitted that, you were too flustered to catch his reaction.

You slowly look up at her, your eyes meeting hers again.

“What look…?”

Nancy’s lip curls into a smirk, her eyes flashing with something you can’t read.

“Well… first it was disbelief, like he couldn’t understand how someone like you hasn’t fucked ever before.”

You blush deeply.

“Someone like me?” You ask with a small voice.

Nancy huffs at you, “In case nobody told you, you are hot – like super hot and you are gorgeous too. If you weren’t my best friend, I’d be all up on you.”

“Nancy!” You gasp, blushing even deeper at her words.

She laughs loudly at the flustered look on your face.

“It’s nothing but the truth!”

You are giggling now, looking down with your burning cheeks. You pull the cub closer to you again, snuggling it against your chest.

Nancy gives you a moment, though her eyes never leave your face and the smug smile doesn’t either.

“Second, he looked like he was ready to change that for you… You know, that inexperienced part.”

Nancy laughs loudly when your eyes widen and you try to hide behind your face, growing flustered more than you ever did before.

“N-No he didn’t!” You squeal. Though you can’t deny the fact that her words stir something inside of you, that they don’t fill you with excitement and hope.

Because even if you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you would love it if Steve was the one to be your first… and perhaps your last.

“Oh but he did, sweetie,” Nancy giggles, unable to hide her grin, unable to stop teasing you after this.

You stay outside, sitting beneath the stars and next to the fire with the wolf pup in your lap, unable to stop blushing but also giggling at Nancy’s teasing. For a moment, everything feels so normal, like you are hanging out with your best friend, talking and gushing over your crush.

For a moment, you forget everything that happened today.

For a moment, you let go again.

For a moment everything feels… okay.

Not knowing that tomorrow would change everything.

If only you knew that your hands would be dripping with blood.

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #grumpy x sunshine

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bluebeads-art · 7 months ago

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2024 November 21st

INTO THE LAKE WITH YOU, MUD CHILD

My part of a retroactive art trade with @anxiousapplepie ! "Retroactive" because I was already drawing this before we agreed to make it part of a trade, heheh. December 2nd edit: BEHOLD!... THEIR HALF OF THE TRADE... Eleven whole pages of trade!! Go read it go read it go read it

I read this post about their Role!Swap AU, and, like, multiverse shenanigans? Check. Characters goofing off and having fun? Check. Several opportunities for slapstick humor? Check. Conclusion: I really wanted to draw it. Physical comedy is my specialty. :p

This thing is kinda all over the place composition wise (looking at you, relative sizes of speech bubbles) because there is Too Much going on in these panels and I Did Not plan ahead of time, lmao. This was supposed to be doodlier than it ended up being, so as a growing pain it's a funny jumble of consistency. One of these days I'll be able to doodle without getting carried away. 😂

More rambling and close-ups under the cut

This interaction in particular is what nudged me over the edge to draw this whole thing. I don't know what Fighter Mirabelle's malfunction is when it comes to the Siffrins, but it lets me make Sif the butt of a joke again, so yeehaw! His hat being catapulted out of frame made me laugh when I was thinking of what to do with the composition-complicating hat in question.

Also my personal take is Siffrin is 100% having the time of their life here. Making new(?) friends? Being involved in a fun group activity? Well worth inhaling some puddle water and having to go jump in The Lake to wash the mud off later.

Bonnie being so furious they changed art styles wasn't in my original plan, but I'm so glad I thought of it on a whim because it made me laugh Every Time I looked at their face. 😂

Time taken on this whole thing was 42 hours and 50 minutes. AND. I KNOW THAT SOUNDS BAD. IF YOU KNOW I'M TRYING TO SPEED UP MY ART PROCESS. But this project gets a special pass. This was the farthest out of my art comfort zone I've been in a while! 13 (mostly) full-body characters at various complicated angles, 2 backgrounds, learning to use CSP's perspective rulers, effects I'm not used to like water splashes, etc etc. I made progress on speeding up sketching & line art as well! Some of the lines you see are just extremely cleaned up sketch. I was able to let myself fudge things more too. For example, Mira's dress is a very "dude just trust me" simplification because I don't know how the clothes folds would work at that angle. ^^;;

So while there's still a handful of things I'm not happy with, it's worth it for the learning experience and perfectionism-busting progress! Also for the sake of drawing silliness, of course.

Oh, lastly; the KO sprite is the one from in-game, so it was made by insertdisc5 and not me.

#in stars and time #isat #ISAT Role!Swap AU #isat bonnie #isat odile #isat isabeau #isat mirabelle #isat siffrin #comic #fan art #2d art

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skrunklemuffin · 2 months ago

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This is my brother’s DCA AU, Honk I’m on a StarRail!

My brother isn’t into DCA or fan fiction in general, but I talk to him about the DCA a lot. I told him about the unique-ness of this fandom, that there seems to be an AU for everything. He listed off a bunch of things he thought would be odd or specific and I was able to name a bunch of stories based off of the prompts he came up with. Then, he hit me with:

“Is there a Thomas the Tank engine AU?”

I thought about it for a while, and I hadn’t seen one.

So he made this image in like 2 minutes:

We joked about it some and I told him he needed to give his AU a name. We went back and forth a bit because the DCA AU names always seemed so official to me, so it was important that he got his AU name right. He threw out "Honk I’m on a StarRail" and I lost it. I think I laughed for a solid 2 minutes. He argued that it was stupid but I thought it was perfect!

I thought the idea had ended there but once I went to bed he started working on official image for his AU. He sent this 3 hours later:

The rest of this post is the process and general things that happened while he was working on this image.

He used font that resembles the Honkai StarRail font, then edited it to be closer to the official thing:

For reference this is the logo:

He made his own Eclipse OC!

Then he started on Sun and Moon. He made a simple train model to get the proportions and angle right:

The whole time he is sending me updates and I'm filling him in on lore and what he should add.

Credit for image I sent him: https://www.tumblr.com/piowasthere/760517135721168896/wtf-is-suns-eye-color

He even came up with the Y/N's nickname when I was having a bad day.

We of course had to add moons hat

We almost forgot about the ribbons, but we got there in the end. They were hard to place because...train.

Overall, 10/10 experience! I'm glad I get to show other people his hard work.

If anyone wants to ask questions I'll open my ask box. He is also willing to talk about the process, but that all will still go through this account, so ask away!

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bitchesuntitled · 4 months ago

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Fresh Meat

Joel Miller x F!Reader wc: 3,452

Summary: Finally deciding to get your first tattoo, you go to the best in the business - Joel Miller. Warnings/Tags: MDNI 18+, No outbreak AU, Joel is a tattoo artist, Explicit Language, random female character(iykyk), reader has shoulder length hair, unprotected PinV, fingering(f!receiving), Joel Miller has a filthy mouth(I blame Pedro’s gym picture for this) , I went off memory on tattoo aftercare, reader is getting her first tattoo A/N: First, thank you for your eyeballs and help on this one @beefrobeefcal, @noxturnalnymph, @jennaispunk, and @strang3lov3. Second, this is a very belated birthday present for @jay-zzle who I have screamed about more times than I can even count. It all started with her making a random post looking for Pedro Pascal character fic recs and here we are over a year later! I would not even be writing if it weren't for her. I love you, I'm so very glad we met and I’m so happy you are in my life ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist||AO3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

The thought has crossed your mind plenty of times. It wasn’t as if your family was against tattoos. It was just a lot to consider, between marking your body permanently, and the pain of a needle stabbing into your skin hundreds of times. What if you wake up one day, look at yourself in the mirror and hate it? What then? Laser removal is more expensive than a tattoo and, from what you’ve heard - even more painful.

You’ve done the research, asked the right questions and on your twenty-seventh birthday, you finally decide to bite the bullet and do it. You’re getting tattooed by the Joel Miller. He’s been in the tattoo business for over thirty years now. You studied his line work extensively, scrolling through his Instagram page for hours on end. His name is in tattoo magazines around the world claiming to be one of the best in the business. You steady yourself before grabbing the door handle, feeling the cool steel against your palm, before pulling it open to hear a ding above your head.

“Afternoon, sweetheart,” the platinum-blonde woman says, giving you a friendly smile. “What can I help you with?”

“Uh, J-Joel?” You stammer, eyes wide looking around the shop, colorful pieces of art plastered on the walls, the faint sounds of buzzing surround your ears like a mosquito searching for a spot to bite, “I’m su- supposed to meet-,” you clear your throat, shaking your hands against your sides, gripping the strap of your purse that rests across your body tightly, letting out a nervous chuckle, “Sorry, nervous. I have an appointment with Joel.”

“Ah!” She smirks, clicking around on the computer in front of her. “You must be his three o’clock! Girl, you got lucky with that cancellation. He’s been completely booked for the next six months!” She adds with a laugh, lightly smacking the counter before leaning her tiny frame against it. “Joel!” Her voice booms, “Your three is here!”

“Ah, fresh meat!” Joel’s voice echoes down the hall. “Think she can handle it, Miko?”

“I think so,” she shrugs, smiling while eyeing you up and down. “This your first?”

“Yeah,” you murmur shyly, eyes glancing at your shoes, kicking nervously at the checkered floor.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she beams proudly, “Joel will take good care of you!”

—

You sit in the chair, glancing around the walls of the room. Multiple magazine cutouts praising Joel’s work are hung in black frames, and beautiful artwork is scattered throughout the space. You notice a sticker plastered on the wall that says No Weenies Allowed and let out a soft laugh.

“So you’re wantin’ it behind your ear?” Joel asks. You jump at his sudden presence, stepping into the room. “Sorry, darlin’,” he smirks, “Didn’t mean to spook ya.”

“It’s okay.” You state, feeling your face heat up. “Uhm, yeah, I was hoping to get it behind my ear, like right here.” You rub the spot behind your ear with a single finger, dangerously close to your hairline. The messages you and Joel had swapped back and forth; he had mentioned possibly needing to shave some of your hair to do the tattoo.

“Ya mind?” He asks, sitting on a stool before you, studying where your finger sits.

“Go ahead,” you murmur, moving your hand away to make room for him.

Joel reaches toward your neck, gently brushing your hair back to examine the spot behind your ear. His hand rests gently against the side of your neck, covering most of it. Your breath hitches, feeling the warmth radiating from his palm. He hums, stroking his thumb against the spot behind your ear.

“Good news,” Joel smirks, his big brown eyes looking into your own, “Shouldn’t have to shave any of your hair.”

“Th- that’s good!” You stutter with a shy smile as his thumb continues stroking the spot behind your ear. “Is it a good spot for my first?” You ask, feeling your face get hot again.

“S’perfect.” Joel whispers, “No need to be nervous. I’ll take good care of ya.” He adds with a playful wink.

—

“A’right,” Joel starts, putting on a pair of black latex gloves and grabbing a razor. “You’re not allergic to anything, right?”

“No.” You squeak out, glaring at the comically small razor in his hand. “I thought we didn’t have to shave my hair?”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He grins, “Jus’ gotta get the baby hairs off your neck. Won’t touch any a’ that beautiful hair on your head.” He grabs a bottle off the small table beside the chair, squeezing a small amount of the cool liquid out behind your ear before gently gliding the razor across your delicate skin.

“I noticed the ‘No Weenies Allowed’ sticker, but what if I am one?” You ask, a soft giggle escaping your lips. He moves to throw away the razor in a container labeled sharps on the wall.

“Nah, you’re a tough one,” he laughs, turning slightly to look at you, giving you a wink, “Can feel it in my bones. Gonna put the stencil on ya next.”

“Where did you get that, anyway? " you ask, pointing at the sticker in an attempt to distract yourself from the shiver running down your spine as he rubs more of the cool liquid onto your skin with a paper towel. His knuckle nudges against the side of your chin, turning your head slightly to the side, and he gently places the stencil against that spot behind your ear, smoothing it out firmly with the pads of his fingers.

You can feel your face growing warmer again. You knew Joel was attractive by the pictures you’d seen of him, but in person? The ink etched into his skin, the dark brown of his irises, the broad expanse of his shoulders, his gentle but firm touch against your skin, the easy way he can soothe your nerves, the way he walks you through the entire process, there’s no wonder why they say he’s the best in the business.

“My kid got it for me! Thought it’d be perfect for the shop.” He states, gently removing the stencil and fanning your neck with his hand. “Gotta let that dry for a bit.”

You let out a soft sigh, waiting for the stencil to dry, listening to him prepare the small table beside him. His fingers gently tap against your neck. “You can go ahead and look in the mirror. Make sure you like the spot; if you don’t, we can move it.”

You stand from the chair, walking towards the mirror, and turn your head trying to glance at the stencil placement.

“Shit,” Joel grunts, standing up “Wasn’t even thinkin’. Sorry, sweetheart, here.” He stands behind you with a mirror. He brushes your hair back, placing the mirror for you to see the stencil more clearly. Your smile is beaming as you see the outline on your neck, chancing a look at Joel in the mirror. His eyes meet yours, a soft smile on his face as his broad body stands so close behind you. “Like it?” He asks. You nod, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Just gotta get a couple more things ready.” He states, walking back to his stool, “Go’head and sit back down.” His biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt as he shakes a bottle full of black ink, squirting the ink into small containers on the table. Your mouth feels dry, watching him move around like an expert within the little corner of his shop. “I have to show you that this is a brand new needle,” Joel instructs, showing you the packaging of a needle. Your smile falters, eyes widening, staring at the needle, nodding dumbly as he opens it and places it within his tattoo gun.

“Okay,” he announces, fiddling with the tattoo gun in his hands, starting and stopping it randomly, “ya ready?”

You take a deep breath in, slowly letting the air escape your lungs before nodding. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you murmur.

“Go ‘head and turn your head towards the wall for me, darlin’,” Joel says, his thick fingers lightly pushing your chin in the direction he wants you to go.

You close your eyes, taking deep breaths in and out, awaiting the feel of the needle against your skin.

“Here we go,” Joel murmurs in your ear, you hear the buzzing of the tattoo gun grow closer, feeling a slick ointment pressed into your skin, wincing when you feel the sharp needle pierce your skin. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, taking note of the grimace on your face.

“Doing okay,” you breathe out, resting your hands against your stomach, focusing on the rise and fall of your tummy. The needle strokes against your skin, creating a permanent fixture on your body for the rest of your life. The slight tinge of pain creates a wave of goosebumps to ripple across your flesh. Joel hums softly in your ear to the tune playing on the radio as he moves the needle with precision. Your nipples harden under your shirt, your face warming with embarrassment, hoping with everything in your being that your bra has enough padding to cover the traitorous peaks of your breasts.

“Doin’ good for me, sweetheart,” Joel murmurs, swiping the towel against your neck. “Just a couple more lines, and then we’ll be done.”

“Okay,” you squeak out, careful not to nod as he speaks, “This doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks, a cocky lilt to his voice, “Told ya I’d take good care of ya.”

“Yeah,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “Kinda feels good.”

“Careful now, you’ll get addicted!” He chuckles into your ear. The buzzing stops, and he wipes the towel against your neck again. “A’right, all done,” Joel murmurs, turning your chin towards him. Your breath hitches as you look into his deep chocolate eyes, pupils dilating before your eyes as his gaze travels down your neck to your chest. Clearing his throat before instructing you, “Take your time getting up, okay? Don’t need ya passin’ out on my floor thinkin’ you’re all fine an’ dandy.”

You give a slight nod of your head, averting your eyes from him quickly. Joel takes his gloves off and starts cleaning things off the small table.

“Ya a’right?” He asks softly, glancing over at you.

“Yeah, just worried about the passing out thing.” You murmur, holding in an anxious laugh.

“C’mere,” Joel instructs, holding out his hand. You grab it to help hoist yourself up from the chair. He keeps a firm but gentle hold of your arm, walking you towards the mirror. “Here, darlin’,” he gently coos, holding the mirror up behind you so you can see the permanent art on your body.

“Oh my god, Joel,” you breathe, feeling a lump in your throat, “It’s beautiful!”

Joel can’t contain his smile behind you, his pearly whites on display as he continues to watch you studying the art on your skin. You stumble forward towards the mirror, feeling a slight rush of headiness. Joel grips your hip, pulling your back flush to his front.

“Sorry,” you giggle, your hand shooting up, trying to cover the grin on your face. “I think I got a little too excited.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Joel hums, his thumb sneaking up the hem of your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your hip. Your heart races from his simple touch. You glance in the mirror, watching as his eyes travel up and down your body. “This okay?” He asks, cocking his brow, his hand resting against your stomach, fingers tracing soft patterns above the waistline of your jeans. You nod dumbstruck, glancing away from the mirror to look at the door. “S’okay, baby,” Joel huskily whispers in your ear, “No one’s gonna come back here.”

He slowly blows on your new tattoo, feeling the cool air against your heated skin; a small whimper escapes your lips, back arching against his chest, your ass pushing against his groin. You can feel the outline of his stiff erection through the denim of his jeans. Joel lets out a soft groan, pulling you impossibly closer to him, his hand skimming down to the button of your jeans.

“Still okay?” He coos, teeth nibbling against your ear.

“Joel,” you whine softly, your hand grasping against the arm holding you, the other reaching behind you, slipping your fingers between the thick curls on the nape of his neck.

“You’re okay, pretty girl,” he growls into the crook of your shoulder, “You did so good getting your first tattoo.” One of his hands moves, gripping your chin and turning your face to crash his lips into your own. His tongue sliding between your lips, swirling the thick muscle around your mouth, claiming the soft moan that rolls out of your throat into his mouth.

“Fuck,” you gasp, chest heaving, your lips catching the corner of his mouth as the hand that was rubbing gentle patterns into your skin deftly works the button and zipper of your jeans open, slipping his hand down to feel the cotton of your underwear. Your hips buck as his thick fingers press firmly against your cloth-covered clit, a whine erupting out of you.

“Shhhh,” Joel smirks, nosing your temple, “Look in the mirror, baby. Did someone figure out that a little pain is nice?”

Your eyes close, head leaning back against his shoulder, warmth spreading throughout your body, wiggling against him as his fingers continue to rub circles against your swollen clit.

“I said look in the mirror,” he grunts, gripping your chin harshly forcing you to look at the mirror. A gasp escapes your lips, eyes widening as Joel’s dark eyes stare at you in the mirror. “You gonna let me fuck you, pretty girl?” He asks, firmly grinding his bulge into your ass.

“Yes,” you breathe out, swallowing thickly. Joel smirks, kissing your jaw. “Fuck,” you whisper, your thighs beginning to shake from the delicious pressure Joel’s putting on that bundle of nerves.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he softly groans against your skin. His lips placing soft kisses and gentle sucks against the crook of shoulder, making sure to be careful of your new tattoo. “So glad that fucker cancelled so you could come in,” Joel sighs, sliding his fingers under the band of your panties. “So fuckin’ wet, sweetheart,” he hums. “This all for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod, trying to catch your breath. You can feel the band in your stomach about to snap. “Joel,” you mewl, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to try and keep quiet, “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” Joel smirks, his index and middle fingers ghosting along your weeping hole as his thumb continues its pleasurable rhythm against your nub.

“More,” you beg, gripping the arm that’s down your pants, nails biting into his forearm. “Please -fuck- more. So close.”

“You gonna come, baby?” Joel husks against your hairline, “Come all over my fingers?”

You let out a pathetic whine, hips bucking into his hand and pleading desperately for more before feeling his thick fingers plunge into your tight heat.

“Fuck me, pretty girl,” Joel growls, moving his fingers in a syrupy slow rhythm, “Pussy’s just beggin’ to be filled, huh?”

“Yes,” you whimper, the band in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as Joel continues to spew filth into your ear. His fingers crook up, reaching that spot that very few before him have been able to find, bumping against it on every stroke in and out of your sex. “Oh god,” you moan out, “Joel, please, faster.” You can feel your walls clamping down against his fingers, just needing that extra bit more to throw you over the edge. Joel pumps his fingers in again, holding them at that spot, firmly swiping them back and forth.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel, I’m gonna- I’m gon-” cutting yourself off as that band finally snaps, gushing all over his hand.

“Oh, baby,” Joel smiles, slick lingering between your thighs and sliding against your tummy as he removes his fingers, bringing the soaked digits to his mouth, sucking them clean with a lewd -pop- as they leave his mouth. “Taste so fucking good.”

You giggle, in shock, unable to believe that just happened. First tattoo and you got fingered by Joel Miller? You would mark this birthday a success as is.

“Now,” Joel says, clearing his throat, gently brushing your hair to the side, “In all seriousness. You need to make sure you keep this clean,” he states, you hear the jingle of a belt buckle and a zipper being undone before he’s grabbing your jeans and underwear, slipping them down your legs. “Mmmm,” he hums, peeking down to get a good look at your ass, gripping the root of his cock, swiping the tip between your soaked folds. “Feel so good, baby.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, glancing toward the door again.

“Uh-uh,” Joel tuts, gripping your chin to force your vision to focus back on the mirror. “You keep lookin’ here, a’right?” Your eyes bore into his dark orbs, nodding. “Good girl,” he grunts, notching himself at your entrance. “Just keep lookin’ in the mirror, don’t worry ‘bout anythin’ else,” he instructs, pushing his thick length into you.

“Fuck,” you gasp quietly, hands reaching out, landing on the mirror before you.

“Oh fuck, pretty girl,” He grunts, gripping a handful of your hair. “Look at ya,” he sneers in the mirror, taking in the fucked out expression on your face, “This what ya needed? This cock inside your tight little pussy?”

You whimper, feeling him saw in and out of you at a punishing pace.

“Where was I?,” he grunts, his hips smacking against the flesh of your ass, “Thas right, keep your tattoo clean.” Joel pulls his hips back, glancing down at his glistening cock. “Fuck me,” he whispers in awe. “Three times a day should be good,” he huffs, thrusting back into you, tugging on your hair. “You listening, baby? Shit’s important.”

You nod, trying to focus on his instructions.

“Need ya t’put a small amount of aquaphor on it during the day,” he groans, “Just enough t’keep it moist. Not a whole bunch though, don’t need your new ink as wet as this pussy.” Joel chuckles, watching the way your ass ripples as he slams back into your squelching cunt. “It gets itchy? Smack it - don’t - fucking - scratch - it.” He punctuates his instructions with powerful thrusts between each word. “Don’t fuck up my art, baby.”

“O-o-oh god,” you mewl, feeling your walls flutter around his length.

“Repeat it.” Joel commands, sliding his fingers down to your throbbing clit. “Need t’know you were listenin’, baby.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, taking a shuddering breath. “W-wash it, three -ungh- three times a day, a-a-and put on aquaphor.”

“How much aquaphor?” Joel asks, snapping his length into you sharply.

“Small amount, not a lot.”

“Not a lot like what?” Joel chuckles, gripping your hair tighter. His fingers swirling circles around your bundle of nerves.

“M-m-my pussy,” you moan, feeling so close to falling off that ledge of ecstasy.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Joel grunts, “Know you’re gettin’ close. Can feel that tight pussy squeezing my cock, baby.” You moan softly, nails sliding against the glass of the mirror, the walls of your pussy growing tighter with each of Joel’s thrusts, feeling a wave of pleasure wash over you, finally tipping you off that ledge.

“Fuck!” Joel shouts, loosening your hair in favor of gripping your hips tightly, pulling you roughly towards him half a dozen more times, chasing his own climax before he erupts, hot ropes of his come paint your inner walls. “So fucking good, baby.” He huffs, his head landing between your shoulder blades. Sweat clinging to both your bodies, trying to catch your breath.

“I’ll go over tattoo aftercare again,” Joel grunts, pulling out of your wet heat, twin groans escaping both of you, chuckling against your shoulder blades, “Don’t want ya missin’ anythin’ important I might have told ya.”

“Don’t think I could.” You smirk, giggling, feeling him fumble behind you, “Not with that sort of lesson.”

Joel turns you around, kneeling down to grab your pants. “Hey wait a minute. In our messages you said this was your birthday present to yourself, right?” He asks, smiling up at you.

“Uh, yeah.” You nod, avoiding his eyes, face warming while remembering your nervous rambling to him as he helps you right your clothes. “It’s today, m-my birthday is today.”

“Well then,” Joel stands, his hand gripping your jaw to tilt your face to his, giving you a tender kiss, “Happy fuckin’ birthday, sweetheart.”

NPT for those who seemed interested: @whocaresstillthelouvre @vichons @pinkypromisepascal

Thanks for reading! If you liked please comment or reblog letting me know!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #tattoo artist!joel miller #bitchesuntitled

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jinlin-at-the-moon · 5 months ago

Text

so a few days ago i was thinking about this post+comic, and i thought that while svsss luo binghe probably wouldn't try to Actually kill liu qingge, pidw luo binghe absolutely would. ergo, imagine, if you will. an au where peerless cucumber doesn't transmigrate in as shen qingqiu, but airplane still becomes shang qinghua. due to plot differences, airplane-bro doesn't really care about what the hell kind of drama the other peak lords are getting up to, but still somehow happens to knock over a book or something- something that, through bullshit plot contrivance butterfly effect, somehow manages to let shen jiu actually save liu qingge in the lingxi caves.

some years pass, years where liu qingge is going through a fantastical knightly enemies to ??? where he slowly learns he may have initially misjudged this man who may not be the paragon of virtue but is nonetheless a person worthy of respect with a possible sordid past that resulted in a difficult disposition and now has to kneel down and admit then make up to his failures, as shen jiu is like "what kind of fucking scheme is he trying to pull", which results in like a weird strained kind of coworkers who Don't Talk About It type relationship. the immortal alliance conference still happens, everything proceeds as in canon, except- when bingge comes back from his 5-year internship in tartarus and does his pidw-canon-typical "destroy shen jiu's reputation and lock him up in the water prison" shenanigans, it turns out that liu qingge Can and Will try to break shen jiu out -not because he really likes the guy all that much, necessarily, but he has a life debt to pay back and also has already dragged his one (1) braincell through the grinder in order to realise his assumed-evil coworker is probably not actually one-dimensionally evil, so he feels complicated enough about it to try and get some actual answers in here - and if that involves kicking demon ass that's just a fun bonus. normally, all this would not be an issue for demon emperor luo binghe who has recently basically come into nigh full power if you discount xin mo being grumpy, because, as established he would not hesitate to kill his former shishu! in fact, he'd be very glad to do that! however, for item out of designated boundary reasons, liu qingge Will Not Fucking Die.

...cue clown music.

liu qingge has already sacrificed his last braincell to trying to comprehend his shattered worldview of shen jiu as a person and therefore he does not examine why he is Actually so determined to break him out, and also doesn't have enough brainpower to feel torn by the fact that duelling luo binghe every week is actually kind of fun (and also why he kind of has a boner about it). shen jiu has a moral crisis about the fact that the man who he's first hated then avoided for like over a decade is now the one guy who keeps trying to legitimately come back for him and is willing to risk death over and over in order to do that, and also that somehow this pisses the beast off enough to distract him from the whole revenge/ripping off limbs thing- except now he's for some reason coming down to the water prison to rant about it? luo binghe, for his part, does not know why he's ranting about it to shen jiu of all people (it started as taunting! then it became some kind of weird routine because that one guy just cannot cease being alive and what is UP with that) and while he does have enough braincells to question why fighting liu qingge every week feels more stable than any other relationship he's had in his life since his mother died, he absolutely refuses to examine it. none of them are making it out of this normal. the clown music gets louder every time they're in one location. huan hua keeps having to dish out more and more repair funds for the bai zhan war god's going ham most destructive. the three clowns are locked in a mario/peach/bowser dynamic stalemate none of them actually want to be in, but it's what fate has dealt, and some god is probably laughing at their miseries.

(meanwhile, god is not laughing. god is wondering what the fuck happened here and how it got to this point and also if this means he might put some of his fake-his-own-death plans on hold just to see what kind of bullshit happens next. ...god also really wishes he could invent popcorn.)

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cheftsunoda · 2 months ago

Text

beauty and brains

(part three)

smau + real life

(this part is quite wordy i apologize)

“jules goes to meet lando’s family and him and charles have a much needed conversation.”

Charles Leclerc x !Doctor Sister Reader x Platonic F1 Grid

Leclerc Reader x Lando Norris

part one

part two

part four

tag list : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg , @msliz , @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 , @goldenstrawberryx, @hannahmotors10 , @alireads27 , @1800-love-me, @htpssgavi , @cmgmikealson, @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog, @glow-ish

—

dr_jules_leclerc

japan 📍

liked by lando, quadrant, arthur_leclerc & 8,378,790 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : special day in japan w quadrant, libertywalkkato and the loml

see ya in suzuka bbs

—

lando : you are so fucking beautiful

lando : so happy to have you there with me angel

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : so happy to be there with you handsome- I am so proud of you<3

liked by lando

username4 : I am so happy they are happy^^ it warms my heart

username5 : they r so fucking cute

quadrant : our fave couple

liked by author and lando

arthur_leclerc : lando do you think it’s cool to just steal my big sister from me?

liked by author and lando

dr_jules_leclerc : arthur stop being dramatic - i will be in the paddock tomorrow

lando : I thought we agreed mclaren paddock tomorrow….

dr_jules_leclerc : I am splitting my time equally children.. you will both see me tomorrow.

pietra.pilao : absolutely loved getting to meet and hangout! (she is even more beautiful in person guys)

liked by author and lando

dr_jules_leclerc : you are the absolute sweetest! pls convince max to move you guys to monaco so we can hangout everyday😚

liked by pietra.pilao, lando and maxfewtrell

maxfewtrell : Trying my hardest to make it happen. Nice meeting you, Jules! So glad you gave Lando a chance- he is the happiest I’ve ever seen him.

liked by author and lando

alexandrasaintmleux : my beautiful angel 😻

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : love you smmmm pretty

leclerc_pascale : Je vous aime tous les deux!

liked by author and lando

charles_leclerc : Maman! You were supposed to tell Jules to stop ignoring me

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : charlie…i have not been ignoring you..i literally saw you two days ago

charles_leclerc : two days too many

dr_jules_leclerc : omg between you and arthur I can’t ever have a moments peace

liked by leclerc_pascale

leclerc_pascale : Maintenant tu vois ce que je ressens.

liked by author

arthur_leclerc : I have been betrayed by my own mother and SISTER

liked by author

username8 : I met Jules tonight and she was the absolute sweetest - definitely even more beautiful in person!

liked by author dr_jules_leclerc : so nice to meet you- thank you for the kind words!!

—

lando just made a post!

japan 📍

liked by dr_jules_leclerc, danielricciardo, oscarpiastri & 2,366,378 others.

lando : mega day at liberty walk hq with quadrant to launch our car/helmet combo- absolutely incredible to have the love of my life by my side. japan is even more special than usual this year. can’t wait to hit the track!

dr_jules_leclerc : so proud of you my angel- i will always be with you every step of the way! now go kick some ass on the track tomorrow 🤍

liked by author

lando : my love for you grows more and more each day

danielricciardo : get a room would ya

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : miss you danny😭 still planning that trip to aus and im bringing max bc my maxiel heart is hurting

liked by author, danielricciardo and maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: just let me know when the plane is leaving and I’ll be there

liked by danielricciardo and dr_jules_leclerc

username2 : JULES WILL BE THE ONE TO REUNITE MAXIEL I LOVE HER

maxfewtrell : 🇯🇵🔥

liked by author

username4 : was this an event for Jules or for Lando? because she stole the show..😍

liked by author

lando : she really did 😻 my girl is a stunner, ain’t she?

liked by dr_jules_leclerc

username4 : omg she absolutely is

lilymhe : fun time have been had lando now return my wife

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

lando : settle it over 18 holes?

dr_jules_leclerc : she’d beat your ass babe

liked by lilymhe and alexalbon

monsterenergy : power couple

oscarpiastri : mate she looks cooler than you at your own event

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : love you osc

mclaren : we r in love with your girlfriend lando

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : you have my heart admin

—

real life - quadrant liberty walk event - jules pov

The energy buzzed through the cool Tokyo air, a perfect mix of roaring engines, camera shutters, and excited fans echoing off the walls of the Liberty Walk compound. I tucked my hands deeper into the pockets of my oversized jacket. I smiled to myself as I watched Lando animatedly talk cars with some of the team, his face lit up, bouncing slightly on his heels in that way he always did when he was excited. Five months into this whirlwind of a relationship, and it still didn’t feel real sometimes—being with someone like him, in places like this.

“Babe!” he called, spotting me across the lot, motioning for me to come over. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I weaved through the crowd, offering a few polite nods to fans who recognized me.

"Dr. Jules! Could we get a picture real quick?" a younger girl in the crowd asked me and I stopped abruptly.

"Absolutely." I said and leaned into the group and she snapped the photo.

"Have a good night! You and Lando are perfect together." She said with a smile.

"Thank you mon ange, you have a good night! I hope you have fun." I said with a smile and then walked to join Lando.

Lando reached for your hand as you reached him, lacing your fingers together before tugging you gently toward a grinning guy standing next to a girl with long blonde hair and killer style.

“This is my best friend, Max—And this is his girlfriend, Pietra,” Lando said, his voice proud, like he was presenting a prized possession. “Guys, this is her- I told you she was real- Dr. Jules Leclerc.”

I laughed softly, rolling my eyes at Lando before extending your hand. “Just call me Jules- no need for formalities- I promise I’m not as mysterious or important as he makes me sound.” Earning a glare from Lando.

Pietra leaned in and gave me a quick hug instead of a handshake. “Finally! He talks about you all the time. I was starting to think you were a figment of his imagination.”

I smiled warmly. “I’ve been buried in the hospital the past few weeks, but I couldn’t miss this.”

“You’re a pediatric oncologist, right?” Max asked, eyebrows raised. “That’s intense.”

I nodded. “It has its moments. But I love it.”

Lando gave my hand a small squeeze, and when I glanced up at him, he was already looking at me with that soft, proud expression he reserved just for me. “She’s basically a superhero,” he said, only half-joking.

“Oh god,” I muttered, cheeks burning. “My head won’t be able to fit through the door if you keep this up.”

Max and Pietra laughed, clearly already warming to me.

“It is very impressive, something to really be proud of. You should have a massive ego.” Max said with a chuckle and Pietra nodded.

“We’re getting food later with the rest of the team,” Pietra said, looping her arm through mine casually. “You better come. I want to hear all the embarrassing Charles stories.”

I laughed. “Deal—but only if you promise not to tell him.”

“And I want to hear the embarrassing way Lando asked you out.” Max chuckled as he walked beside Lando.

“I think we can skip that today.” Lando said eyeing me and I chuckled lightly.

As the four of us fell into easy conversation, I couldn’t help but glance at Lando, his arm still loosely around my waist, his eyes sparkling. The event was exciting, sure—but this? This felt like something quietly perfect. Like I was exactly where I am supposed to be.

The soft hum of the plane’s engines was the only sound in the first-class cabin, dulled further by my noise-canceling headphones that currently played nothing but the low, steady rhythm of my own heartbeat. Lando was stretched out beside me, legs long, one arm slung across his lap as he scrolled through his phone. Every few seconds, his thumb would stop, and he’d glance at me.

I tried not to fidget. I was usually good under pressure—my whole career was built on staying calm in life-or-death situations. But this? Meeting Lando’s family for the first time? Terrifying.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I mumbled, turning my head toward him with a tiny smile.

“Like what?” he asked, wide-eyed and completely innocent, though the twitch of a smirk gave him away.

“Like you’re waiting for me to bolt out the emergency exit.”

He laughed under his breath and reached over to tug one of my headphones off. “I’d tackle you before you even hit the aisle.”

I rolled my eyes but leaned into him slightly, his warmth grounding me. “I just… I’m nervous.”

“Why?” he said, voice soft now. “They’re going to love you.”

I gave him a look. “Because I’m your girlfriend. And—newsflash—I don’t exactly have a laid-back job. What if I say something weird or fall asleep mid-convo from exhaustion? What if I spill wine on your mum’s rug or call your brother the wrong name—”

“Okay, okay,” he cut in, chuckling, slipping his hand into mine. “First of all, my mum already loves you and she’s only seen a photo. She literally asked if you were the one who saved that little boy from the racing-themed tumor project. Like… you’re halfway to sainthood in her eyes.”

I laughed softly, the tension in my shoulders easing a little.

“And second,” Lando went on, “my family is chill. No pressure, no royal protocol, no calling anyone sir—except maybe me, if you’re feeling flirty.”

I swatted his shoulder playfully, cheeks heating. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning over to press a kiss to my temple. “But I’m ridiculously into you.”

I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder as I stared out the window. The clouds below looked like cotton stretched thin, and the sun was just beginning to dip, painting the sky in streaks of apricot and lavender.

“Do you think your little cousins will like me?” I asked quietly after a beat.

“They’re obsessed with anything F1. And you’re a literal doctor. I’m not even the cool one in this relationship anymore.”

I chuckled. “You never were.”

Lando gasped dramatically and pretended to be wounded, pressing a hand to his chest. “Ouch. My ego.”

I reached over, brushing my fingers along his wrist. “I’ll make it up to you. Just… hold my hand when we land, yeah?”

“Always.”

—

I barely had time to adjust my hoodie—Lando’s hoodie, as always—before the front door burst open and chaos immediately ensued.

“LAN-DOOOOO!”

A blur of tiny limbs flew at him, arms wide like they were mid-flight. Lando stumbled backward, laughing as one of his younger cousins tackled his waist. Another followed seconds later, shouting something about who won the last family karting race.

I stayed just outside the doorway, suitcase in hand, watching it all unfold with a half-nervous, half-amused smile. Honestly, it was adorable. Chaotic, yes—but adorable.

Then a new voice cut through the mayhem.

“Alright, give him a second to breathe—he’s not going anywhere!”

I looked up as a woman appeared from the hallway—poised, but warm, with the kind of presence that made me instinctively want to stand up straighter. Her eyes found mine immediately, and the smile that bloomed on her face was the kind that made my chest loosen just a little.

“You must be Jules,” she said, already stepping forward with her arms out. “I’m Cisca. Finally—I’ve heard about you nonstop.”

I hugged her, a bit surprised by how natural it felt. “It’s really lovely to meet you.”

“No, darling. It’s lovely to finally have you here.”

Before I could answer, another voice piped up behind her—calm, curious, and just as warm.

“Is this the famous doctor we’ve been hearing about?”

A tall man with graying hair and kind eyes stepped forward, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. This must be Lando’s dad—Adam. I straightened instinctively, not quite intimidated, but definitely a little on edge.

“Hi,” I offered with a soft smile, extending my hand. “Jules.”

“Adam,” he replied, shaking my hand firmly, then smiling. “We were starting to think you were mythical.”

“She is,” Lando cut in from behind me, dropping the suitcase to the floor and wrapping an arm around my waist. “Mythical, magical, and very much mine.”

I shot him a look. Adam laughed.

“I see the charm’s still running on full power.”

Before I could respond, a new presence slid into the hallway with a graceful sort of energy—cool, confident, and stylish without even trying.

“Hey,” she said with a wide grin. “You’ve got to be Jules. I’m Flo.”

I took her in immediately: Lando’s sister, effortlessly beautiful and clearly used to sizing people up fast—but she was smiling, which gave me hope.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” I said, returning the smile.

Flo raised a brow. “All good things, I hope?”

“Only the best,” I said, glancing at Lando, who looked suddenly far too pleased with himself.

The introductions started to blur after that—more cousins appearing from every room, snacks being offered like it was a competition, and multiple requests from the younger kids to show them how to do CPR “just in case.” I politely declined.

Flo pulled me aside once during the biscuit tornado and said, low enough so only you could hear, “Don’t take anything personally—this house is a zoo when everyone’s home. But… you fit in, weirdly well.”

It hit me unexpectedly—the weight of that sentence. I fit in.

Dinner was a mix of laughter, teasing, and gentle nudges from Cisca every time someone brought up Lando’s childhood phase of trying to name every Formula 1 driver’s pets. Adam asked about my work—genuinely curious—and even the little ones eventually quieted enough to eat. Flo talked to me like a sister you didn’t know I needed, and Lando? He couldn’t stop smiling.

Later, as I helped clear the table, Cisca touched my arm gently.

“Thank you for coming, Jules,” she said quietly. “You’re very… grounding for him.”

I blinked, then smiled, heart aching in that soft, slow way it did when something really mattered.

“Thanks for having me,” I whispered back.

And as I stepped back into the living room—Lando perched on the armrest of the couch, motioning for me to sit between him and Flo—you realized something else:

It already felt a little like home.

—

I barely had time to breathe after dinner before another voice rang out from the hallway.

“Oi! Is she here yet or did you scare her off already?”

I turned just in time to see a tall, sharp-featured guy with the exact same mischievous grin as Lando walk into the room, carrying a box of beers in one hand and a duffel in the other.

“That’s Oli,” Lando whispered under his breath with a crooked smile. “Brace yourself.”

“I heard that,” Oli called, shooting Lando a mock glare before turning to me. “So you’re the doctor-slash-twin-sister-slash-person willing to put up with this idiot?”

I blinked, then grinned. “Guilty.”

Oli set the beer down, dropped the bag, and walked straight up to ,e like I was already part of the family. “Respect. Honestly. Can I shake your hand, or do I have to go through a background check?”

“Just the handshake should do,” I deadpanned.

He laughed, clearly already loving me. “Alright, she’s cool. Lando, you might actually be in trouble.”

“Might?” Flo called from across the room, where she was stealing the last chocolate biscuit off a plate.

Just then, a new figure stepped in behind Oli—a woman with dark brown curls pulled into a loose braid, subtle makeup, and the calm energy of someone who’d spent her whole life being the observer in a storm of louder siblings. She smiled when she saw me, kind and open.

“Hi. I’m Cisca—junior, not mum,” she said, extending her hand. “Sorry we’re late. We got stuck in traffic and then Oli had to stop for snacks.”

“I told you I was starving,” he muttered, heading for the fridge.

I shook her hand, already liking her immediately. “Jules. It’s really nice to meet you.”

She leaned in a little, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Don’t let them overwhelm you. We tend to… swarm.”

I laughed. “I’m used to swarms. Pediatric oncology’s basically organized chaos with tiny humans.”

Oli popped his head out from behind the fridge door. “Oh god, you really are cool.”

Soon enough, the living room was full again—Oli cracking jokes, Flo calling him out on old stories, Cisca Jr. and I falling into quiet conversation on the couch about my work, and Lando sitting right beside me with a hand resting lightly on my knee, like even in all the noise, I was his constant.

At one point, Oli started recounting the story of how Lando accidentally reversed a golf cart into a pool on a family trip. Everyone roared with laughter—especially me, because the mental image was too much.

Lando just buried his face in my shoulder and groaned. “This is a violation of trust.”

“You brought me into the lion’s den,” I whispered, patting his back. “You had to know what was coming.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes sparkling, voice low. “Still glad you came?”

I didn’t hesitate. “So glad.”

The house had finally quieted.

The sound of laughter and clinking plates had faded into the gentle creaks of a house settling for the night. Most of the lights were off, except for the soft golden glow coming from the kitchen. I padded in, barefoot in one of Lando’s old hoodies—again—and found Cisca at the counter, stirring a mug of tea with slow, thoughtful movements.

She looked up and smiled, her expression calm and warm.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked, reaching for a second mug.

I shook my head, sliding onto one of the stools. “Too much adrenaline. I haven’t socialized that hard since med school.”

Cisca laughed gently and passed me a mug, chamomile and honey wafting up in soft curls of steam. “You handled it beautifully. They all loved you.”

I cradled the mug in my hands and looked down at it, the warmth grounding me. “It was a lot… but a good kind of a lot. Your family is amazing.”

She watched me for a second—really watched me—with that same steady, maternal gaze she’d had from the moment I walked in.

“You’re good for him, you know,” she said quietly. “I haven’t seen him this… settled in a long time. Maybe ever.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the softness in her tone. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“You were just yourself,” she said, setting her spoon down. “That’s all it ever takes with the right people.”

I swallowed, something about her words landing deep in my chest.

“I was nervous coming here,” I admitted. “Not because of you or your family—but because… I know how close you all are. And I guess part of me wondered if I’d be too different. Too ‘doctor,’ too serious. Too… I don't know."

Cisca smiled gently, reaching out to place her hand over mine. Her grip was warm, comforting.

“Being close doesn’t mean we’re all the same. It means we show up for each other. And tonight, you showed up. For him. For us. That’s all we need.”

I felt my eyes sting a little—not with tears exactly, but something close. I blinked quickly and gave a small laugh. “Okay, if you keep being this nice to me, I will cry.”

Cisca squeezed my hand. “Then I’ll make you another cup and hand you a tissue. I’ve done it before.”

I looked at her, really looked, and saw a woman who had raised her kids with fierce love, sharp wit, and the kind of empathy that didn’t need to be loud to be felt. She didn’t need grand gestures. She just saw people.

“I really love him,” I said suddenly, softly.

Her eyes sparkled just a little. “I know you do.”

I sat in silence for a moment, sipping my tea, letting the quiet settle between us—not uncomfortable, but full. Like two women connected by someone they both adored deeply, each in their own way.

“I hope he knows how lucky he is,” she added a moment later.

I smiled to myself. “I remind him. Daily."

—

I closed the kitchen door as quietly as possible, mug still warm in my hands, my heart even warmer.

The lights were dim down the hallway, but I didn’t have to guess where Lando was. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed in one of his old hoodies, hair messy from running his hands through it, TV remote forgotten beside him. The second he saw me, his face softened like he’d been waiting to exhale.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, thumb brushing under his bottom lip as I walked over.

I nodded, slipping onto the edge of the bed beside him. “Your mum and I had tea.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Oh no. Did she—did she bring out baby pictures? Or worse, the ‘Lando in the bathtub’ ones?”

I laughed, leaning into his side. “No, no blackmail material. Just… a really lovely conversation.”

He tucked my hair behind my ear, eyes searching my face like he wanted to memorize every version of my calm.

“What’d she say?”

I hesitated for a second, then looked up at him. “That I’m good for you.”

Lando’s breath caught, and his hand slowed where it had been tracing lazy circles on my thigh.

“She’s right,” he murmured. “You are.”

I smiled softly and leaned into his chest, letting the quiet settle. The world outside the walls of this room—my job, the races, the headlines, even Charles and his inevitable protective sibling grilling—it could all wait.

Right now, it was just the two of you, wrapped in flannel sheets and sleep-heavy affection.

“She also said you’re lucky to have me,” I whispered against his hoodie.

He kissed the top of my head without missing a beat. “I am. So ridiculously lucky.”

The Norris kitchen was already buzzing when I came down the stairs the next morning. I was in one of Lando’s oversized hoodies again—this one with the faded Quadrant logo—and a pair of socks that barely matched. My hair was up, barely tamed, and I hadn’t even thought about makeup yet.

But the second I stepped into the room, four pairs of eyes flicked toward me. And then I felt it.

I blinked. “…What?”

Flo grinned around her coffee mug, clearly trying not to laugh. Oli leaned back in his chair with a smug smirk.

“Good morning, Jules Norris,” he said pointedly.

I rolled my eyes and muttered, “That’s not even funny.”

Cisca Jr. glanced at her mum, who was very pointedly looking down at the toast she was buttering—but her smile was giving everything away.

Lando walked in right behind me, still sleep-warm and squinting at the brightness, and reached for my hand like it was second nature. Everyone noticed. I could feel it.

He yawned, totally unbothered. “Morning.”

Oli raised an eyebrow. “So you’re just casually holding hands in front of us now, huh?”

“Is this an official soft launch?” Flo teased, bumping my elbow. “Or are we already past that and in the ‘planning the wedding playlist’ era?”

Lando didn’t even let go of my hand. He just looked around, deadpan. “I’ve been in love with her for months. What stage do you think we’re in?”

I turned slowly to stare at him, heart suddenly thudding louder in my chest. He met my gaze like he meant every word.

Silence fell over the kitchen—except for the loud clink of Oli’s spoon dropping into his bowl.

“Well then,” Cisca said, setting down the toast, eyes twinkling. “I suppose we should start planning seating arrangements.”

Everyone burst into laughter, but Lando never looked away from me. His thumb brushed across my knuckles, grounding, steady.

I bit your lip to hide my smile. “We’ll start with brunch first.”

He smirked. “Then forever.”

—

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dr_jules_leclerc : lando took me to meet his family and now i am the favorite

ciscanorris : We miss you already! Come back soon❤️ Love you both!

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lando : we love you mum

flonorris1 : best sister in law i ever could’ve asked for 😉

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leclerc_pascale : So glad you both had a good time! Safe travels.

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ciscanorris : You raised a great girl, Pascale.

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leclerc_pascale : And you raised a wonderful man!

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charles_leclerc : great now come back to monaco pls

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dr_jules_leclerc : alex come get your menace

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arthur_leclerc : it’s my fault- i keep calling lando our brother in law

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charles_leclerc : they are NOT married

lando : doesn’t mean we will never be charlie 😚

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charles_leclerc : bad answer

—

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lando : can’t wait to make her dr. jules elise leclerc-norris (i added leclerc so charles won’t kill me)

ciscanorris : My beautiful children!

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dr_jules_leclerc : miss you admin!

charles_leclerc : did not make it any better

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carlossainz55 : Am I best man??

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dr_jules_leclerc : you can always be a bridesmaid too

adam_norris_pure_electric : Very excited to brag about my daughter in law who saves lives everyday!

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lando : your son driving in f1 is no longer brag worthy?

adam_norris_pure_electric : lando she literally saves lives everyday - a SUPERHERO

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—

It had been a couple of days since Lando and I flew back from the whirlwind family visit. I was back at work, deep into patient rounds and case notes, and Lando had been catching up with sim training, press, and a full inbox of post–triple header chaos. The house was still littered with half-unpacked bags and the soft scent of my perfume clinging to his hoodie on the back of the couch.

And today—finally—Charles came over.

Charles sat across from Lando on the balcony, legs stretched out, espresso in hand. He looked relaxed—but Lando knew better. There was a storm under all that calm. There always was when it came to me.

“So,” Charles said finally, eyes squinting against the sun. “You and Jules.”

Lando swallowed, setting down his coffee.

“Yeah. Me and Jules.”

“She’s serious about you.”

It wasn’t a question—but it hung in the air like one.

“I know,” Lando said quietly. “I’m serious about her too. More than I’ve ever been with anyone.”

Charles looked at him for a long beat. No teasing, no narrowed eyes. Just watching.

“I always knew someone would come along,” he said eventually, “but I didn’t think it’d be a driver.”

Lando didn’t flinch. “I didn’t think it’d be your sister. So here we are.”

A twitch of a smile—barely there—but it made Lando feel like he hadn’t already lost the fight.

“I’ve seen her go through hell and still walk into that hospital every day like she’s made of armor,” Charles said, voice low now, all truth. “She doesn’t let people in easily. Not really.”

“I know,” Lando murmured. “But she lets me in. And I don’t take that for granted.”

Charles stared down into his coffee for a moment before asking the thing that mattered most.

“What do you want with her?”

Lando didn’t hesitate.

“I want to build a life with her.”

Charles looked up.

“I’m not saying tomorrow. I know she’s got a career that matters and so do I. But when I think long-term, it’s her. Always her.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was full. Full of everything they didn’t need to say out loud anymore. Lando had shown up. He’d met the family. He’d seen Jules in chaos and quiet, in grief and joy. And through all of it, he stayed.

Charles finally leaned back in his chair, sighing through his nose.

“She talks about you like you’re… peace,” he said. “Like she finally stopped running.”

Lando smiled—soft, genuine. “She’s peace for me too.”

A long pause.

Then Charles clinked his espresso glass against Lando’s and said, “Don’t screw it up, mate.”

“No pressure,” Lando said, smirking. “Just the most important relationship of my life and your blessing. Easy stuff.”

Charles shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“I still might kill you if you ever hurt her.”

“I’d let you.”

Another beat of silence. Then Charles added, a little too casually, “So… when are you telling Maman?”

Lando’s eyes widened. “About what?”

“That she might be planning a wedding in the next year or two.”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Let me propose first, man.”

“Tick-tock,” Charles said with a grin.

But underneath the teasing, Lando could feel it—the trust. It was real now.

—

omggg part three is finished! as always let me know if you guys want me to continue or if you have any requests for other stories! thank you for all your support this far!

#charles leclerc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #formula 1 #lando norris #mclaren #scuderia ferrari #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando fluff #f1 fic #arthur leclerc #oscar piastri #quadrant #lorenzo leclerc #leclerc!reader

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